


cigarette stained teeth around a silencer

by unofficialpoltergeist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Complicated Relationships, Crimes & Criminals, Gun Kink, Guns, Humanstuck, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Organized Crime, Porn With Plot, Probably slow burn after that, Smoking, Smut, Top Sollux Captor, early smut, lol, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24891358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unofficialpoltergeist/pseuds/unofficialpoltergeist
Summary: Your name is Sollux Captor, and you're currently hiding beneath a mobster's marble desk.You wonder which mistake it was, specifically, that led you here.There've been a lot.--A Mafiastuck AU, ft. Erisol!
Relationships: Eridan Ampora/Sollux Captor
Comments: 20
Kudos: 75





	1. Eridan Ampora is Not a Slut

**Author's Note:**

> warning: i'm terrible at updating! i'll try and keep up with this, but i have a bad track record so no promises lmao. but i'll do my best :) 
> 
> enjoy! let me know what you think!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You reminisce on your long and complicated, to say the least, relationship with Eridan Ampora.  
> AKA; a not so veiled way to introduce backstory and some self-indulgent smut. But, stay tuned! Plot's coming in hot in the next chapter.

Your name is Sollux Captor, and you're currently hiding beneath a mobster's marble desk. 

But that's a very confusing place to begin, isn't it? 

Let's back it up. 

* * *

You met Eridan Ampora in high school. Funny as it is looking back on it, you thought you and him might've been good friends. You were a tall and lanky freshman, wearing that stupid hoodie and Mituna's hand-me-down jeans to school every day. He was a short and awkward freshman, wearing clothes that matched too well for a 14 year old and, occasionally, eyeliner. 

You knew, even at that point, that you weren't exactly straight, and it was obvious Eridan had already found some confidence in his sexuality. You did, admittedly, have some admiration for that, and maybe something of a crush. Not that you admitted it to yourself back then. Back then, you just told your closest confidantes Aradia and Karkat, _I admire his confidence._ You did not find it necessary to tell Karkat, or yourself, that you also admired the curve of his neck and thought frequently about how it'd taste between your lips, or how soft it'd be. That was a secret that remained solely between your subconscious and your wet dreams. 

He silently remained the subject of your bisexual awakening for the first semester of freshman year, and you were content with that. You'd gaze at him in algebra, wondering how the fuck he managed to get his lips to look so kissable. But then one tragic day, he opened them. 

And you could never go back to your innocent fantasizing.

Turns out, he was quiet in math class because he wasn't confident in his answers. You thought he was just some sweet, quiet sap, but you were so, _so_ fucking wrong. The following semester, you had him in your American literature class, and you must admit, the voice didn't exactly match what you'd imagined for that desirable pout. He wasn't delicate and reserved, or intimidating in his solemnity. Now in a subject he had confidence in, he didn't fucking shut up. His voice, that grating New York-Italian accent, drilled into your mind for an hour and a half every single day, going on about the queerness of Gatsby and the social expectations of Huckleberry Finn all the while sounding like one of the douchebag pedestrians in a Spider-Man movie. Like the poster child for goddamn New York. Like a movie mobster. You went to high school in New York; accents were common. But his had that indescribable special twinge of asshole. 

Your voiceless, unspoken crush on him spiraled into a full blown hatred. And you hadn't even held a conversation with him personally yet. 

Everything you learned about him was fuel to the fire. When you two actually interacted, ~~sparks~~ punches flew. You found yourself sitting side by side with Eridan in the principal's office more often than you did in class. He pulled your hair. You broke his nose. He chipped a tooth you couldn't afford to fix. 

You stole the girl he was interested in. 

He got super fucking hot after junior year.

You made out with him in the bathroom. 

He sucked your dick in his car. 

Maybe hate was a more complicated emotion than either of you had expected. 

In fairness, neither of you saw it coming. It was a late Thursday night in January of senior year in the library; snow trickled down outside the big windows, but inside, you were getting hot. Initially out of frustration. You and Eridan were assigned partners for a chemistry project, and you were silently swearing to whatever deity was above (or below), that if he tried to explain Lewis dot structures one more time, you were going to wring his stupid fucking tender neck. Chemistry was one of the subjects he liked, which meant he'd prattle on and _on_ like someone cared. No one did, least of all _you._ But on and on he went, with his stupid fucking soft lips and his stupid fucking pretty eyes, and you just sat there thinking of all the ways you could whoop his ass. There were so many. 

"Sol," he snapped. "You're not listenin." 

You rolled your eyes, letting them close. "I'm listening, Eridan." 

"Really? What was I just sayin?" 

"The dots are electrons," you guessed. He was right, after all. You totally weren't listening. You hadn't realized how deeply you'd fallen into a daydream while he was droning. 

"I said you look more stoned than Gamzee." 

You opened your eyes. "What?" 

He snorted at himself. "You're not payin a lick of attention."

"Why should I be? You're going over the lectures like I wasn't even there. You're not my fucking tutor, dude. I don't need you to explain what an electron is." 

"I feel like I gotta explain everythin cause you just sit there an stare with those freaky eyes. You look like a doll possessed by some dumbass, horny teenage ghost." 

"Maybe I am a ghost, because you fucking bored me to death." You stood up from the table. "I'm going to the bathroom."

He watched you with those icy blue eyes, then looked back at his papers with a brow quirked. "Fine. Be quick about it. I don't wanna be here all night." 

God. And he had the nerve to call _you_ freaky eyes. You shoved the chair in harder than you meant to and left the library. Most of the faculty and staff had even gone home at this point, so the halls and classrooms were empty. Only half of the fluorescent lights remained lit, and with barely any light filtering in from the snowy evening outside, the white concrete hallways felt even creepier. 

Not that you were paying attention to that. You were too frustrated with that absolutely conceited motherfucker to appreciate the spookiness of your surroundings. You hated him. You hated him so much. Your fists clenched by your side as you walked, dreaming about how good it felt to slam into his face. He was such a pretty boy, hearing that nose crack- 

Oh, you got chills reminiscing on that fight. Even now, months later, it brought you satisfaction to remember the bolt of shock that went through his expression as his bejeweled hand shot up to clutch his nose. Your fist ached from the impact, but you watched as blood slipped through his fingers. It stemmed over his lips, and when he opened his mouth to yell an insult you couldn't remember, it stained his ridiculously perfect white teeth red. That image would always make you grin to yourself. And, the image of him at school the following day, puffy purple bruises under his eyes, a bandage holding his nose straight. If looks could kill, you'd have been dead before class began. Too bad for Eridan, they couldn't. And you relished in that all fucking day. 

What a good week that was. It didn't matter how hard he hit you next time, or how much you might wish you were dead when the next fight came. He couldn't take away that perfect hit. He couldn't take away the memory of feeling his cartilage crunch under your knuckles. He couldn't take away the satisfaction you still reaped from it. 

You reached the bathroom. You never did have to use it, if that wasn't obvious. You just needed a break from that asshole breathing down your neck. The lights in the bathroom were a washed out school-brand white in contrast to the soft yellow lamplight of the library. It made you look years more tired than you were, which was saying a lot. You're regularly pretty fucking tired. The bags under your eyes were staples to your look. 

You ran the water cold and cupped it in your hands, leaning down to wash it over your face. What were you even thinking? 

You had been thinking about kissing him.

You splashed more water on your face and watched it patter back into the porcelain sink. 

No, you had been thinking about _punching_ him. 

You gripped the sides of the sink bowl. You should've asked the teacher for a different partner. You shouldn't have done this. There were a million things you could've done to avoid this, but you did none. Why not? 

Why didn't you beg someone to switch partners?

Did you _want_ to be stuck working with him? To have an excuse to be around him? 

Did you like the way he made your blood thump in your ears?

He was going to get concerned. You didn't know how long you spent staring at your warped reflection in the sink water. You were starting to make out more of your own features. You could almost see the mismatching color of your eyes. Or, maybe, you were just hallucinating it, but either way, you couldn't look away. You'd thought yourself into a rabbit hole, and you were desperately trying to crawl out before you had to face Eridan again.

Which would turn out to be sooner than you planned.

The bathroom door swung open. You didn't have to look to know who it was. He was one of the only other people in the building, and besides, he was the _only_ person in the building who wore shoes that fucking clicked like that. Loud and impossible to ignore, a bit like himself. 

"I'm an adult," you muttered. "You don't need to check on me. I think I can manage to piss on my own."

"That wasn't exactly clear, seein as you've been in here almost 15 minutes."

Fuck. 15 minutes? How had 15 minutes gone by? You figured it couldn't have been more than 5. You didn't respond, eyes still searching the sink basin.

"Sol, are you okay?" He stepped forward, those clicks getting louder. Your breath came heavier. Your blood thumped louder. 

He said something else that you didn't hear. You weren't listening to his words anymore. You heard your own heartbeat and you swore you could hear his. 

You lifted your head finally to look at him, feeling cold water drip down your cheeks. His eyebrows were cinched together behind his glasses. His eyes were wide as they looked you over. His lips moved soundlessly. 

God, those fucking lips. You'd seen them swollen from punches, cut and bleeding, chewed on in class, wrapped around the tip of his pen while he thought. You'd even seen them meshed with another boy's behind the gym one time. Some idiotic boy who probably didn't make him feel the way you did. You were the most interesting part of his day. You were the highlight of his night. And you knew it, too, because he was yours.

You were thinking entirely too much. Your body was lagging while your mind raced, until finally, you clasped the back of his head and kissed him. You'd pulled his hair before, but now with your hand sinking into it, you realized how soft the waves were under your fingers. You felt his breath hitch against your lips, and for a moment, you were horrified. You hadn't thought about him _not_ kissing you back. You just needed a taste of that bastard mouth, and goddamnit- it was more than worth it. Maybe he'd shove you away. Maybe he'd bash your head into the sink. Maybe you'd have to transfer schools, change numbers.. 

But just to have that moment of your lips against his, his breath against your cheek, his hair between your fingers...

It was worth it. If this killed you, then fuck. That's just how it would have to be. 

Thankfully, he didn't make any attempts to murder you. Eridan pulled away after that moment, stiff as a board, cheeks pink and pupils blown so big you could barely see the blue iris around it. "What the fuck are you doin?" he asked, but not nearly with as much venom as you expected. His voice was almost gentle. You, frankly, didn't know it could be anything but Ampora brand loud asshole. 

"Just shut up," you mumbled, and for once, he complied. You leaned in for more, and he did, too. He was even eager to meet your lips, his hands falling to your waist, chest against yours. Your hand clenched in his hair so tightly you felt him wince, but it spurred more vigor. His tongue was in your mouth, surging against yours, tracing your teeth. 

You'd only kissed one other boy prior to this night, and that was a very, very drunk Karkat playing truth or dare in his basement. He tasted like the cheap beer you'd both been drinking, gritty like a bar. Aradia tasted like tea and flowers. Feferi tasted like lemonade at the beach. You sort of figured women just, generally, tasted sweet and summery, like perfume, and men tasted musky and dark like cologne. In your experience, at least.

Eridan was a special case. Maybe the exception to prove the rule. Kissing him felt weirdly clean. He smelled like fresh linen and rosewater. His mouth tasted minty, until he bit down on your lip. Then, his mouth tasted like your own blood. 

That, somehow, seemed more fitting than mint, anyway. 

With guidance from him, you pressed your back against the wall. It didn't feel as though you had much choice in the matter. His hands on your hips were firm and clear about what they commanded, and you didn't have any argument with that. He was needy, barely breathing as he kissed you, keeping your bodies as close as physically possible. You found yourself mirroring him and feeding in the same fervor. You yanked his hair and clamped your other hand around the back of his neck, squeezing with your thumb and index finger on either side. 

You were still taller than him, but he'd certainly grown. Now you were nearly eye level with each other, which made it easy for you to drop your head to his neck. It was so smooth and porcelain. You'd been dreaming about sinking your teeth in since you first saw this asshole, and now, you finally could. You kissed up and down his throat, thrilled to feel him shudder from it. 

"Don't leave a mark," he growled. 

You were going to kindly ignore that. Odds being that this was never, ever going to happen again, you were going to milk the absolute fuck out of this. You chose a nice spot, too high to be covered by a shirt collar, and bit down. 

Eridan twitched. His little gasp was right above your ear, and it sent a wave of arousal through you. It had a similar effect on him, apparently, because his hips bucked into yours. Strong fucking hips. How often did he work out? You needed to see him shirtless. That had to happen tonight. 

You sucked harder on the mark you made, then tongued over it. When you were with Aradia, and later Feferi, you never left marks. Didn't feel the need to. You couldn't explain the glint in your eyes when you pulled back to see how dark the mark you left was, but it was akin to the satisfaction you got thinking about his broken nose. You grinned, then dove back in for more. 

"God, your teeth are fuckin _sharp_ ," he complained after you bit down a second time, much lower on his neck. But, again, his hips shifted, this time feeling more purposeful. It was a smooth roll, followed by another. 

"You're the one who broke them," you pointed out, and returned to your work.

Both of you knew this couldn't continue in the men's fucking bathroom. Despite the school being empty, there were still janitors, library staff, wanderers. And the fact that it was a high school bathroom. It was hot, in a certain way, but you needed somewhere you could continue this unabashed and without being questioned. You wanted to hear just how loudly he could scream. 

And just how muscly his chest was. 

But, both of you were scared to break the momentum. The energy of this makeout was unparalleled and unprecedented by any other makeout in your entire life. What if you stopped it, and you couldn't pick it back up? What if you had to go sadly walk past your father with a boner from making out with your nemesis, just to jerk yourself off to this memory in your room? What if he realized what he was doing, remembered the project, and made you awkwardly go back to working across the table with him? 

Yikes. That was the worst possibility of them all. 

It was a risk you had to take. You couldn't fuck in the men's bathroom. That simply was not a realistic option. 

You sighed and rolled your head back after you finished your second hickey. Your grip on the back of his neck loosened. His eyes opened, taking a moment to focus on your face, but when they did, he looked confused. "What?"

"What?" you echoed. "I didn't say anything."

"You were looking at me."

"Yeah, Ed, you're hot. What the fuck else would I be looking at?" 

He seemed to accept that compliment, smiling as he leaned in to kiss you again. It was a shame you had to stop it, again. 

"What was that?" you grinned. 

Again, he opened his eyes to find yours. "What? I kissed you?"

"No, before that."

"I dunno?" 

"You smiled."

He rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

"Is that cause I called you hot?" you continued, snickering. 

"No."

"Do you like that? Do you like when I compliment you?"

"Can you shut the fuck up?" 

"Ed, you're _beautiful_ ," you cupped both of his cheeks. "Such a pretty baby."

Grabbing your wrist, he cut you off with another kiss. He mumbled without taking his lips away from yours. "Swear, I like you so much better like this."

Maybe you're a bit of a sucker for praise, too, because him saying he liked you into your mouth made your knees buckle. You had to kiss him back for a moment, but really. Bathroom. "Ed," you protested. 

"Jesus, what?" 

"We're in the fucking bathroom. All our shit's in the library. What do you think we're going to do? Fuck here?" 

"I wasn't thinkin about that," he groaned, going back in to kiss you. 

"Stop, we have to think about that." You tried to look serious, moving your hand over his mouth. "I don't want to work on fucking Lewis dot structures with a boner."

Despite not being able to see his mouth, you knew he was chuckling at that. His voice was muffled, but he talked anyway. "You're hard already?"

"Can you fuck off? That's not the point."

He finally pushed your hand away and resigned. "Fine. So, what's the plan, then?"

"That's literally what I was trying to ask you." 

"My dad's home. Cro probably is, too. We can't go there." 

"Well, _my_ dad and brother are probably home, too, so it's not like we can go there." 

"I mean, do you wanna go somewhere?" 

You sucked your lip in your teeth for a moment, feeling where he bit. It was gonna leave a mark. "Do you?" you said after contemplating.

He lowered his eyes over your body, reading every inch, then back to your face. "Yeah."

So that was hot. How are you supposed to argue when he looked at you like that? You can't. He won. "Then- fuck. What about your car?" 

"You wanna fuck in my car?"

"You wanna _fuck_?" 

"I don't- no? What were you thinkin?" 

"Just fucking around, I don't know. I've never done shit with a guy before."

"Okay, then yeah. Car ain't the place to start when it comes to that, so we can just- yeah. Fuck around. In my car. That's fine." 

"Is it?" You smirked. "You seem a little breathless."

"Do you want me to suck your dick or not?"

"You're gonna suck my dick?"

"If you stop bein a fuckin asshole, yeah."

You were just quiet after that. He kissed you again, soft and lingering, before he stepped back. He went to the mirror. 

" _Fuck_ , didn't I say not to leave a mark?" he hissed, examining the two spots on his neck. He huffed and ran a hand through his hair, now loose from the gel and curling, tilting his head to either side. "Jesus, those are so obvious." 

"It's winter," you shrugged. "Wear a scarf." 

He crinkled his nose at you. "Ha ha." 

"I'm gonna go get my stuff. I'll get yours, too, if you want to go start your car and warm it up?" 

"Fine. I'll meet you outside."

You went to collect both of your things, realizing his coat was here, too. Poor idiot ran outside in just the long sleeve shirt he had on. That thought made you laugh to yourself as you packed everything up, shouldered your own coat, and went outside with both bags on your arms. Fuck the project you came here to do. The promise of getting your dick sucked was far more enticing than a good grade. 

Eridan's car, a glossy black Cadillac, was stalling outside the library's entrance. You ducked through the falling snow and pulled the passenger door open to climb in, throwing your and his stuff in the backseat. "It smells like smoke," you noted aloud.

"Yeah, Cro smokes," he answered, shifting into drive. "Disgustin habit."

He cruised into the overflow parking lot and parked diagonally across several spaces without minding. You watched the shadows fall over his face as the snow fell around the car, as the street lamp bathed everything in faint orange. Freshman year, when you first met him, he was attractive. He was cute. His cheeks were a little full, his hair obviously was styled to change its real texture with too much gel, and the structure of his face was hidden behind frames that were too big for his narrow eyes. Your crush on him then was sweet. You both grew up a lot since then, even though it was only four years. Now, you were afraid his cheekbones might actually cut you. He'd stopped dressing like a wannabe runway designer and started complementing his style, even though it was still stuff you would never wear yourself. He actually looked _hot,_ even though he insistently kept that purple streak in his hair all four years. 

He looked even older now in the low, warm lighting, hair just a little bit messed up, the collar of his shirt stretched. You couldn't wait to fuck in the bathroom at your ten year reunion, because God. Imagine that face even older, more refined? A touch of gray at the temples? You needed to get on this train early. 

Eridan unbuckled his seatbelt, adjusting the radio to hum quietly. Some idle indie acoustics, it sounded like, but he kept the volume low. "I think I promised you somethin," he mused. "Can't remember what it was."

"Think it had something to do with my dick and your mouth, but maybe that's wishful thinking," you grin. 

"Must be, cause that doesn't sound like me."

"Don't even lie. You've sucked off half the school. Even the teachers know you're a slut." 

"Then what's that say about your tastes?" 

You had no answer. It was clear in the way he cocked his brow that you shouldn't have pushed the promiscuous point, and you sure as hell shouldn't push it any further, but your mouth sometimes runs faster than your brain. "I'm desperate, I guess." 

He smacked you clean across your face. It wasn't anywhere near the hardest he'd ever hit you, but it _stung_. You bit your lip and forced yourself to inhale through your nose. 

"What do you want me to say?" you breathed out.

"Nothin, preferably, if all you wanna do is call me a whore." 

"I didn't call you a whore." 

"Fine. If all you wanna do is call me a fuckin slut, is that better?" 

"More accurate to what I said, yeah." 

"So, is that why you're here? Want a round with the school slut?"

"Stop, Eridan, that's not what I said," you argued, but you could see his eyes narrowing. 

"It's what you meant, though, isn't it?"

"No." 

"Then what'd you mean? Why'd you say it?"

You rolled your teeth in your lip again. You've already stepped out of line, that much is clear. You don't want to go any further. "I've just seen you with other guys."

"So what? I'm a slut for that?" He continued to egg you on. 

"You're not a slut. I just-" 

"You just what?"

"I just was jealous," you spat. "Okay? I've seen you with a lot of guys and it took you four years to be interested in me."

He laughed. It seemed cold, humorless. "Sol, are you serious?"

You folded your arms. 

"I've _been_ interested in you for four fuckin years, but for almost two a those, you were fuckin my best friend. An before that, you were fuckin your best friend. Both a whom are women, to boot. What did you expect me to do? Come onto you?" 

You didn't answer. 

"Oh wait, I did, didn't I? An you laughed in my face. Sophomore year. I'm sure you remember."

He was right. You did remember. You remained silent. 

"But, still. My bad, I guess. I shouldn't have dated other men. I should've just waited for you to come around an make out with me in a men's room. I'm just a slut, though. Couldn't resist suckin a few dicks while I waited for you to think I'm worthy."

"I didn't-"

He cut you off. "Enough. What right do you have to get jealous when the most you did for me was hold me like a fish on a line? I'm not allowed to have a life outside a you? Was my world supposed to revolve around all your desires you never voiced?" 

He didn't speak for a moment, so you sighed. "Are you done?"

"That depends. Are you gonna argue with me?"

"No. You're right."

Eridan raised his eyebrows, obviously expecting some elaboration. You provided it.

"You didn't give me what I didn't admit I wanted. That's not your fault. I'm an idiot for thinking you were hot but not wanting to say that until now."

He remained unimpressed.

"And I'm sorry, because I'm the one who started a rumor about you."

His expression changed to interest. 

"Okay, maybe two. Or a few, I don't really remember."

Disappointment.

"And I'm the one who told the assistant principal you were kissing that dude under the bleachers."

This time, he opened his mouth. "You asshole."

"Come on, Ed, I did you a favor. He was ugly."

He punched your shoulder, but this time, it was playful. "What the fuck? He was a good kisser."

"Yeah, right," you scoffed. "Not as good as me."

"Maybe not. But definitely less of a jerkoff than you."

"Sacrifices you have to make," you shrugged. "You choose. Mediocre kisser who won't call you a slut, or a great kisser who may piss you off time to time."

Instead of audibly picking an option, Eridan just leaned in to kiss you again. Which was, honestly, a massive relief. You weren't sure if you were going to dig yourself out of that hole, but thankfully you did. Tonight was a one-of-a-kind night. You couldn't ruin it by being an asshole. It seemed Eridan had a similar perspective, because he was easier to forgive a grudge than he normally would be. If you were just studying still, your chances for even conversation after saying that would've been shot. Silently, you were grateful for how eager you both were to get your dicks wet.

He kissed you back into the seat, leaning over the low center console, clearly ready to get back to where you left off. You were as well, so you carded your hand through his hair again, then started pulling up the hem of his shirt. He pulled back slightly.

"What's that for?"

"Because I have a feeling you're hot, and I want to see it."

You were learning quickly that you could get nearly anything you want from Eridan if you slid a compliment in with it. He sat up to take his glasses off first, then peel his shirt off his back, tossing it in the backseat. And, fuck. You were right. He was _ripped_. It didn't seem fair that he could look that good, but you did know he was on the swim team. And used to do competitive dance. Maybe it made some sense. 

Still, you exhaled a little whistle, running your hands down his chest. He already had a few tattoos you could see but not quite make out scrawled across his chest and above his hips. Jesus. He was such a clean cut, hot motherfucker, and he knew it. He smirked.

You hated him. 

"Like what you see?"

"Shut the fuck up," you groaned. "You know I do."

He leaned back in with that stupid smile to kiss you deeper, and to start pulling at the hem of your shirt. You caught his wrist, redirecting it lower to your jeans, but you could feel his confusion. Hopefully, he wouldn't comment.

Obviously, he was going to comment. "What? I don't get to see what you're hidin under here?" 

"No," you said shortly.

He pouted. "Why not?"

"It's not necessary for me to be shirtless."

"It wasn't necessary for _me_ to be shirtless, either."

"Yeah, but you actually want to be. I don't. We can just leave it at that," you said, looking up at him.

Even though he kept his bottom lip jutted out, he accepted that answer. You barely heard him say, under his breath, "Fef said somethin about that." 

You blinked, wondering if you heard that right. "What?"

"What?" he parroted. "Nothin."

You rolled your eyes and tweaked his nipple. Punishment. "Just don't tell her about this."

"Yeah, no shit." 

Shockingly enough, neither of you had any snark to add for awhile. He was quick to move his hand down to your crotch, which was, admittedly, a little harder than you admitted to earlier. There was a lot of build-up to this is your only justification, but Eridan didn't comment. You just felt his lips twitch into a smile against yours, and that might've been worse than a real comment. 

More importantly, his hand was actually starting to massage you through your pants, and that made your eyes roll back. You put less effort into the kiss, just lazily responding to his movements, shifting your hips, gripping the door handle with one hand for some sense of stability. He easily took the reins. He unzipped your jeans, getting a full feel of what he was working with. 

He must've been surprised, because you felt him hesitate, both his hand and his lips. He felt around for a moment before pushing the boxers out of the way and stroking your cock, now totally hard. 

"Fuck," he breathed. "You've been hidin this the whole time?" 

It was your turn to grin. You knew you had a good dick. While it wasn't as thick as others might be, the length made up for it. Feferi liked it enough, and now you're wondering if she told Eridan about it. Ew. That was a weird thought. Stop thinking about your ex girlfriend while your dick's in someone's hand, huh? 

Pressing one last kiss to your lips, he dropped his head. He spit over the head and used that to slick his hand up as he continued to jerk you, his mouth hovering at the tip. You exhaled heavily and closed your eyes. Eridan did, apparently, know what he was doing. You knotted your fingers through the back of his head again, but you didn't add any pressure. He seemed to be headed in the best direction you could ask for already. 

He started sucking painfully slowly, just at the tip while his hand kept the rest of you warm. Your hips bucked up accidentally, but his other hand firmly held them to the seat after that. Not ready to be face fucked, accidentally or not.

It seemed like Eridan had a system here you couldn't complain about. He lowered his mouth at his own leisure, letting himself adjust as he went. You got used to that sort of easy, early rhythm, letting out a pleased hum when his tongue swiped a tender spot under the head. 

You weren't expecting him to change his routine, but when he reached about mid-shaft, he pulled off. You barely had time to wonder why before he went back down, this time taking it almost completely to the base effortlessly. You choked on your own spit in a sudden gasp, hand clutching Eridan's hair so tightly you felt some strands come loose in your grip. You couldn't help the strangled sound you made, but Eridan seemed to enjoy it. He kept the entire length in his mouth until he had to pull back and breathe, but he was just as eager to go back to bobbing his head, quicker this time. You didn't even have a moment to catch your breath before he pulled another moan out of you, followed by a curse. 

He tortured you with that new pattern longer; he bobbed his head to about mid-shaft, licking and sucking the soul out of you, then without warning, he'd drop so low his nose brushed your hip. Each time he did it, it made you dizzy. You're sure he relished in the surprised sounds you made each time, too. You were seeing stars. You didn't even realize he took his hand off your hip until you bucked up again. This time, it must have caught _him_ by surprise, because he gagged. Concerned, you opened your eyes, but he seemed unfazed. He just mumbled something you couldn't quite understand, due to dick in his mouth. 

"What?" 

He didn't look at you. He pulled off, cleared his throat, and repeated, "Do. That. Again."

You ran through everything you did. You hadn't done anything on purpose. He must've meant your hips? You couldn't ask for clarification, either, because he dove back in to continue sucking. 

You didn't want to choke him again, but you moved your hips up again. This time, his head moved a different way. He nodded. You must've guessed correctly. It was your turn to control the pacing now, which was bad, because you are one self indulgent fuck. You rocked your hips up with a bit more rhythm, counteracting it by pushing Eridan's head down. He made another choking sound deep in his throat, but when you went to release his head, he grabbed your arm. Again, he seemed unfazed with his eyes closed, cheeks glistening from tears slipping out. 

If he was okay, then fuck it. What were you waiting for? You let impulse take over and rammed into his throat, guiding his head to stay as low as possible. You had to stifle a groan as you panted. Eridan didn't have a problem controlling his breath, or at least didn't show it. Though, it's entirely possible you were simply incapable of paying attention, because when you opened your eyes, you also noticed his hand was low by his hips, stroking himself. How long had that been going on? You had literally no idea. Subtle bastard. 

Was this turning him on that much?

You didn't have much time to wonder, because it was turning _you_ on that much. Noticing that he was into it made your heart skip a beat, and made the pit in your stomach grow a lot quicker. You groaned again, now holding Eridan's head in both your hands as you fucked his mouth. You could feel yourself getting dangerously close to finishing, but it took you a lot of concentration to even remember how to speak. 

"Fuck, Eridan- almost- about to finish," you managed to say, though your voice was forced between desperate breaths. 

He didn't have a verbal response, but he nodded again, hardly visible. You felt confident he heard you, so you picked up your pace, moving your hips rapidly until you felt yourself start to tremble. Goosebumps ran over your thighs, down to your fingertips gripping his hair for dear life, and your hips stuttered. The orgasm made you stiffen as you released into his mouth, groaning his name loudly, then fall apart into waves of shuddering. Your grasp in his hair slipped. You slumped back against the seat still quivering, jittering, and panting, all the while Eridan sucked you clean. That mouth should be illegal. Eridan should go to jail. Head should not make a man fall apart like this. You couldn't even think straight; you were seeing stars. 

Nonchalantly, he sat back in the driver's seat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He was still stroking himself at a steady pace with a pleased little expression on his flushed face. "I like it when you say my name."

Had you said his name? You could barely remember, but honestly, probably. You took a minute just to breathe, closing your eyes. "Yeah, well, I like fucking your face, so maybe we could arrange something," you mumbled. You gestured to him. "Stop doing that."

"Doin what?"

"You know what." 

"Why should I? I just swallowed your fat fuckin load no complaints, but I don't get to finish?"

"No," you complained. "You really fucking do, I just want to do it."

"You look like you couldn't write your name right now."

That was a good point. But, still, you argued. "I want to. Just let me catch my breath."

Eridan sighed, leaning against the door. He continued to move his hand over his dick, but he kept it slow. "Fine."

You ran a hand through your hair. Jesus. Easily the best head you've ever received. Hands down. No question. Your dick felt _clean_ when you tucked it back into your boxers. Sucked clean. You didn't bother zipping up your pants, leaving the fly open with your boxers pulled up. That taken care of, you leaned over the console to get your hands on this absolute hunk of a man who just drained your soul. 

"I've never done anything with another man," you reminded him. "But that was a pretty good example of what to do, I think." 

"You don't have to do anythin you don't wanna do," Eridan answered, shifting to get comfortable with one knee up. 

"I know. I want to."

He nodded. "Don't be concerned if you're not as good as me. I do have a lotta practice. I am a slut, like you said." 

"You're never going to drop that, are you?" you huffed. You settled with your stomach on the console, putting your hands on Eridan's unsurprisingly muscly thighs. "Get your hand out of the way." 

He complied, bending one arm around the seat and putting the other through your hair. You yanked it out.

"Hey," he whined. "What's that about?"

"I don't like it." 

"You couldn't get your hand _out_ of my hair five minutes ago."

"Yeah, I like _your_ hair."

"Such a bitch." Still, he moved his hand away. He put it on top of the wheel instead. You relaxed after that moving your hands up to properly touch Eridan's cock. 

It was thicker than yours, if a little shorter. You didn't have much experience with other men's penises, but you watched your fair share of porn. This seemed like a pretty well sized one, in your unprofessional opinion. Looking at it put quite a few dirty thoughts in your mind, going much further than just tonight. You never considered yourself a bottom, but this dick looked like it could do some fucking damage. Maybe you'll have to put that on your bucket list. 

You weren't sure where to begin. He made sucking look absolutely effortless, like it was something as simple as starting a car. But now that you actually had a cock in your face, you couldn't think. What did Eridan do? Fuck. He spit. That was the first thing he did. Eridan's dick was already slightly slick, you imagine with precum, but you were going to follow his blueprint. You hacked up a loogie to spit down on the tip, using your thumb to kinda... spread that. God, what the fuck were you doing? Was it working?

He snickered, which was a disappointing sign. You looked up to see what he was laughing about, specifically. "What?" 

"Nothin- nothin," he said. He shook his head. "You just look a li'l lost." 

"Sh, I'm trying. Not everyone is as naturally sexy as you, fucking Ampora." 

"Here-" he leaned down to take your hand, moving it to his base. "Keep as much contact as you can."

"I can figure it out," you mumbled, but you took the advice anyway and started jerking low on the shaft like Eridan did. 

"That's better. You don't have to do a whole lot with your mouth, since it's your first time."

"I want to do _something_ ," you argued. 

"Okay, start with the head. Like a lollipop."

"God, what a shitty comparison." Again, though, you listened. You dropped your head to put the head in your mouth, and you followed his instructions. Lick it like a lollipop. You swirled your tongue around, in all the nooks and crannies and folds. It tasted _gross_ , but an expected kind of gross. You've smelled your own dick. It sure as shit didn't smell like a lollipop, so why would it taste like one? Why do you have to lick it like one? Who came up with this?

It was going well for a moment. You felt him twitch, and you could hear his breathing get louder, but then you heard him wince. Jesus, what now?

"Mind the teeth," Eridan answered your silent question. 

Oops. You forgot you had those. Where were you supposed to put them? Fuck, this was impossible. Eridan had big teeth and you didn't feel them. Where did they go?? You considered just giving up on sucking entirely, but you'd give it another try. You nodded, trying somehow to make your teeth infinitely smaller, but the more aware you were, the more in the way they became. Come on, what the fuck? 

But, you tried. You tried your best. You didn't go any further than the tip, but you tried really hard with the tip, in fairness. 

"Maybe you should stick to jerkin," Eridan offered. That was disheartening, admittedly. 

"Is it that bad?" 

"It's not _bad_ , it's just not really helpin." 

You sighed, sitting up. Jerking off would have to do. You felt like the sucking lesson was taking away some of the sexiness instead of adding to it, so you listened. You'd just jerk him off. At least you knew how to do that much; you just used what you do to yourself as guidance, but on someone else. Easy enough. You stroked the full length and tried to establish a rhythm with that. It was less interesting, but Eridan was also closer than you had been, so hopefully, it'd be quick. 

However, a handjob over a blowjob gave you a perfect view of Eridan's face. That was a better reward than anything. Watching his brows cinch together, his swollen lips part, his eyes flutter shut? That was better than any porn you could've asked for. His skin was almost glowing from sucking you off. It looked pale in the winter light, but smooth and soft, flawless. Except for the two marks scattered down his throat, and that made you feel un-fucking-stoppable. You hoped those marks would last forever. 

You could feel him tense underneath your touch as he got closer to finish, moans and curses starting to fall from his lips with more frequency. Watching his core stiffen and all the lines in his muscles grow bolder was also a magical sight to behold. Holy hell. You wished you could take a picture. You were definitely at least going to lock this memory away for later jerk sessions. 

"Oh, _fuck_ , Sol- close," he mumbled, voice sounding strained, but it excited you.

You decided to risk it. You leaned down to put your mouth on the tip again, licking and sucking. Like a lollipop. Swallowing also seemed like something that was easier said than done, but you were good at taking shots. Most of the time, they were shots of terrible, cheap tequila, too, so you were well trained. 

With a buck of his hips and more twitching, Eridan finished. A wide, insanely hot variety of sounds came with that process, but you were distracted with the sudden spurt of hot, salty glue on your tongue. Why did you think swallowing was a good idea? This was your worst idea all day. You gagged, covering your mouth with your hand to avoid spitting it right back on to Eridan. You had a feeling he wouldn't appreciate that, but fuck? What were you supposed to do with a mouthful of jizz? 

Car. Car door. Outside. You sat back quickly and pushed the passenger door open, so you could spit that mess out onto the asphalt. Jesus. Fucking _disgusting_. Again, you feel deceived by the ease Eridan did everything, including swallowing semen. You had no clue how he did that, but you suddenly had more respect for him. 

The cold already began to bite into your cheeks, so you were just as quick to yank the door closed. Once you did, you could hear... giggling? Shit. He was laughing at you again. You looked over to see him covering his mouth, basically cackling.

Great. 

"It's not that funny," you huffed. "Do you have any water?" 

He just kept laughing. 

"Knock it off."

He caught his breath for a second, tucking his own dick back in his pants, then pointed to the glove. "In there. Help yourself." 

How helpful and romantic. You rolled your eyes at him, even though his laughter was a little cute. Just a little bit. You didn't get to see him smile a lot, so seeing him crack himself up like this was something new, and honestly, adorable. Even if it was at your expense. That part seemed a little unfair, but whatever. You popped open the glove compartment to find water, but what you found instead knocked the cutesy shit out of you like a slap in the face. You instead found something more glaring. And horrifying. 

Eridan wiped underneath his eyes with the heel of his hand. He reached back to get his shirt from the backseat, but then he noticed you staring at the open glove. "What?" 

You raised your eyebrows and looked at him. There's no way he didn't know. You refused to believe he didn't know. The gun was sitting right atop everything else. Scattered papers, a first aid kit, the bottle of water - regular glove compartment things. And then a handgun. In the Captor family, at least, you didn't _accidentally_ leave your gun somewhere. You didn't even think anyone in your family actually owned a gun. There was no need. 

What was the need for Eridan, an 18 year old high school student, to keep a gun in his car? 

You didn't even know what to say. Why the fuck do you have a gun, seemed like a good place to start, but your mouth was dry. You could only watch his expression shift to recognition, then explanation. 

"Fuck," he said first. "Don't touch that-"

"I'm not gonna fucking touch it," you spat. "Why the fuck do you have it in here?" 

"It's complicated, Sol." He reached over, taking the gun out of the glove. He didn't know where to put it for a second, but he settled on tucking it in his backpack. Your eyes followed him. 

"Oh, that makes it all better." You snatched the water bottle from the glove compartment, slamming it closed. 

"I'm sorry, really, I forgot it was in there. I'm sorry." 

"Eridan, why the fuck was it in there in the first place?" 

"I told you, it's complicated." He picked his glasses up from the cup holder and put them back on his nose. 

"That's not a fucking answer," you snapped.

"I'm sorry, it's the only one I have." He searched your face, then reached to thumb over your cheek. You batted his hand away, to his disappointment.

"Dude, this is kind of a big deal. You have a fucking gun in your glove compartment and you won't even tell me why." 

"It's for self defense," he resigned. "It's just for my protection, can we drop it now?"

You weren't satisfied with that answer, but what more can you do? It's the only one you were gonna get, apparently. Eridan, now fully dressed, reached back in his bag again. This time, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He shook one out, popped it in his lips, and cupped the end to light it. He rolled the windows down slightly, just enough to let the smoke escape, and sighed as he took a drag.

"Thought you didn't smoke," you mused. 

"Didn't say that. Just that it's disgustin." 

"Yeah," you agreed. Still, you held your hand out. "Can I have one?"

He dropped the lighter and pack into your hand silently. You lit up one as well. You didn't often smoke, but you had done it a few times. Mostly pot, but the occasional cigarette, too. It still made you cough. Despite his insinuation that he didn't smoke a lot, he was taking long puffs, breathing them out through his nose.

From where you are now looking back, it was this night that stood out from the rest as the biggest indicator that Eridan wasn't someone you should get involved with. He dropped you off at your family's apartment after that, and just as you predicted, you didn't speak the next day. You passed him in the hallway, his scarf tied up underneath his chin, and made eye contact for a long second, then mutually looked away. You fought with him again after a few weeks had passed, but this time, the hair on the back of your neck stood up when his glare landed on you after a punch. You remembered the gun. 

Self defense, he said. Self defense would include shooting someone punching you in the face, right? 

You cut the fight short after that. 

You didn't pick another one. 

You graduated and went to the local community college to continue studying computer science. You watched Eridan walk across the stage, diploma in hand, and that was the last you thought you'd ever see him. 

You hoped so, at least.

* * *

Boy, were you wrong.


	2. Wrong Place, Wrong Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You reunite with your best friend, and you get an interesting phone call. You start to accept that Eridan is the creepy shadow figure you're gonna be seeing out of the corner of your eye for the rest of your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> possible triggers: car accident, miscarriage

You hadn't thought about high school in a long time, especially not that night.

You were 24. You were on your own, living in a shitty apartment in the city. Like, _shitty_. You still enjoyed some freelance tech work, but you worked for an IT company during the day. It was a boring job that kept you in and out of offices, schools, and businesses all day, but you got a company car. That was nice, at least. And it paid the bills, so who were you to complain? 

You had food on the table, a roof over your head, and most importantly, wifi. Things in your life had, for the most part, settled. You planned on living out the rest of your days in this dingy little studio apartment, living off Takis and Monster, and then you'd die peacefully from a very predictable heart attack. 

It wasn't easy to get to this point. You thought high school would be your lowest, your rock bottom, and the rest would be a steady incline, but you had no idea what was in store. God, you had no idea.

* * *

You were in your second year of community college, still living at home with dear old dad. Mituna had moved out just a few short months earlier. He and Latula got a cute apartment just a few subway stops away. You'd swing by after classes sometimes, expecting to see the train wreck that you believed without a doubt would come of them two living together, but it was actually pretty clean. Cluttered, but clean. Most importantly, you'd never seen Mituna happier. You only ever interacted with Latula with MT, but she seemed happy, too. They were figuring it out together. 

Obviously, their luck ran out. 

Hearing about the accident was one of those moments you'd always remember, like 9/11 or Michael Jackson's death. You were sitting on the couch with your dad. You could even remember what episode of The Walking Dead was on, and what pair of pajama pants you were wearing (the one with the ~~zombie~~ walker fight club; yellow flannel with the hole in the ass). You weren't paying attention. You had homework due for a web development class, so you were clicking away on your laptop while your dad actually watched the show. He had weird taste in TV, one of his interests being, for some reason, TWD. You never liked it, but you've seen plenty of episodes just from spending time with your dad like this. 

His phone rang. It was normally work when that happened, so you paid it no mind and continued working. 

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him sit straight up. Brows furrowed, you looked over. His expression raised more questions than it answered. You rarely saw your dad this distressed. 

"Is he okay?" 

You closed your laptop. _He_? Who was he? You tried to catch your dad's eye, but he was staring at the corner of the table. You could only listen. 

"Okay. Manhattan Presbyterian, yes. I know where that is."

Manhattan Presbyterian _hospital_??? 

"Thank you, Latula. I'll be right there." 

Latula. 'He' must be Mituna. In the hospital?? As soon as he hung up the phone, he stood up. You followed him. "Dad, is MT okay?" 

"He was in an accident. Get your coat." 

"Is he _okay_ , Dad?" 

Simon didn't answer, but maybe that was answer enough. You dropped the question and instead listened. You shouldered your coat. The two of you silently drove to the hospital, and the whole time, you felt like there were cotton balls in your mouth. They'd been so happy. They had their own apartment. They wanted to have kids. 

Why couldn't this have happened to you? 

That was the only question that haunted your mind. You chased your dad as he bobbed through the ICU, and the only thing you could possibly think about was why the fuck it didn't happen to you. If it was going to happen to someone in your family, why Mituna? Why not you? You were unattached. Your last serious romantic commitment was when you were 16. You didn't want kids. Your only goal in life was basic survival. 

Mituna had a life. He had a girlfriend- almost a fiance, he showed you the ring. He had dreams. He had potential. And now, you weren't even allowed to see him, because he was in emergency surgery and might not come back out. 

It wasn't fair. 

Latula was crying, her mom there with her. Her arm was in a sling, and she had some thick looking bandages covering patches of her skin, but she seemed okay. She was conscious, at least, and she could process what was happening, even if her voice shook and cracked when she spoke to Simon. You don't remember what she said, just that he wrapped her up in his arms and you stood there in your pajamas, numb. 

You saw the ring on her finger when she hugged your dad back. 

_It should've been me. Why wasn't it me. Why wasn't it me?_

Mituna didn't deserve this. He was happy. He had a good life. He had so much to look forward to. 

You sat in the emergency room, the three of you after Latula's mom left, for hours. You waited, and you waited, and you waited, and you couldn't stop thinking about it. You watched Latula twist her ring around her finger. You watched your dad stare intently at the door, as if he could conjure up his son walking out of it intact. You watched families come in and out, their problems solved, their lives back to normal. 

Would Mituna's life ever go back to normal?

_Why wasn't it me?_

Eridan, that fuck, was the one who got you hooked on smoking. After that night in the car, you bought a pack the very next day. It became your favorite form of stress relief that postponed more stress than it actually relieved, but you still sucked in drag after drag, because all you had to think about in those moments was smoking. Nothing more. Thankfully, the convenience store sold cigarettes, so you picked up a pack after a few hours had passed. You sat on the curb outside to light up. 

Latula joined you when you were already two cigs down. She sat down beside you, cheeks still damp, but eyes dry.

"I didn't know you smoked," she noted. "Tuna never said anything."

"He didn't know, either."

"Oh." She was quiet for a moment after that, her good arm hugging her knees.

"Latula," you began. You tapped ash off the end of your cigarette and watched that fall to the road instead of looking at her. "What the fuck happened?"

She sighed a shaky, uneven breath. "It all came out of nowhere, dude. We were just leaving this cute burger joint to go back home, so he's driving the bike and I'm on the back, and we're going through this intersection-" With another heavy exhale, she covered her face with her hand. "Fuck, seriously, this- piece of shit asshole going 80 miles an hour races through the red light, and he tried to stop-" 

"It's okay," you offered, trying to comfort her, but she waved you away. 

"Tuna braked so hard, I fell off the back. When I looked up, I couldn't even see anything. The bike was demolished." 

"Did you see who was driving?" 

"God, yeah. You won't believe me, dude. It was this fucker we knew from high school. He's here, somewhere, unless this hospital wasn't good enough for him. That wouldn't surprise me." She snorted humorlessly. 

"Who was it?" You didn't know what you could do now to make this situation any better for Latula or Mituna, but smothering whoever did this with a pillow seemed like a fucking good start to you. Anger was the first emotion you let yourself feel tonight. Maybe you could actually do something with it. 

"Kid, don't worry about it. He's untouchable. Best we can do is take it to court." 

If you did smother him with a pillow, you guessed they couldn't sue him for every penny he's worth. You'd just have to smother him with a pillow after they sue him for every penny. Hell, you'd drop out of school to help cover legal fees, but your brother was so obviously guiltless in the accident, you hoped they didn't even need a good lawyer to get every penny. It should just be handed over. And that way, you can smother him with a pillow all the quicker.

You decided to listen to Latula and stop asking about it. She probably needed to talk more than you needed to get pissed off at someone, so you simply nodded. You didn't want to upset her anymore than tonight already had. "The ring looks pretty. He did a good job picking it out."

"Yeah," she gave a small, sad smile as she looked at it. "He said he wanted to go somewhere cool and special to propose, but- it ended up being in our bedroom. I still thought it was pretty fucking neat, though." 

"Yeah, he told me he wanted to go to the Eiffel Tower or some cheesy shit. I wonder why he did it early." 

Latula mumbled something you couldn't hear. Tilting your head, you finally looked over at her. 

"What?"

"I thought I was pregnant," she repeated, still keeping her voice soft. "Well, I know I was. He gave me the ring as soon as I told him last week."

"Oh my God, he didn't say anything. LT, that's so exciting."

She shook her head, and your heart fell through your feet right to Hell. Was. She _was_ pregnant. How did you not catch that? 

"We were waiting a few weeks to really be sure it was even viable, but I lost it." Her eyes started to well up again. Her glasses must've broken in the accident, because there was nothing for her to hide behind. Her face was bare except a few bandages, her black hair a tangled mess at her shoulders. She shook her head again. " _Fuck_. I just can't believe any of this shit is happening, dude. I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do if he's not okay." 

You didn't know what you would do, either. You wished you could say he'd be okay, and that their life would go back to normal. They could get married and try again for a baby. You wished more than anything that could be true. You wished more than anything it was you in emergency surgery. It should've been you, the nicotine addicted 20 year old who was destined to be just another community college cog in the growing computer science machine, not Mituna, whose girlfriend -no, _fiance_ \- was pregnant. 

You had nothing to say. It should've been you. Why wasn't it you. 

_Why wasn't it you._

Latula got cold after awhile sitting outside. After she'd been cleared, her mom had brought her some clean clothing, but it was still only a t-shirt and sweatpants. You were still in your yellow flannel pajamas. You hadn't even thought to change before you left.

After you both sat back in the waiting room, it still felt like years before a doctor came out and addressed you. He used words like _complicated_ , and _treatable_. _Lifelong_. He did not use words like _okay. Recovering. Temporary._ He led the three of you down the hallway to a room with the door closed. He put his hand on the handle without opening it and said he was conscious, but in bad condition. _It might be hard to see him, but I think seeing you might help him orient himself. Be gentle_. 

Actually seeing Mituna was the second part of the night you'd never forget. The first thing you noticed was his helmet, cracked, sitting on the counter. Blood stained that stupid yellow he loved so much.

His head was almost completely wrapped in bandages. His eyes, red-rimmed but still the Captor brand one brown, one blue, still darted between the four of us, though his expression didn't change. There were still IVs in his arm, and bruises up to the shoulder of the gown. His chest rose and fell slowly, undoubtedly bandaged beneath the hospital gown. 

"He may have some trouble speaking, but it'll get better with therapy," the doctor added from the doorway.

Therapy. Treatment. Time. The doctor said a lot of things you didn't remember. Specifics regarding the disconnects in his brain, and how the trauma would affect his life going forward. It'd be hard for him to live alone. It'd be hard for him to drive. It'd be hard for him to be himself. 

You needed another smoke break.

You went outside again to sit on the curb, but you didn't light up immediately. You watched cars whiz by on the street for a few minutes with a lump forming in your throat. With the relief that he was alive, the emotion started to build up behind your eyes. You couldn't stop wondering why the fuck you were here with MT in there. Everything seemed so fucking unfair. Mituna was doing something with his life, and he got hit by a car. 

_Fuck._

You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to shove the tears back in. Your thoughts kept running in circles, imagining him getting thrown off the bike. It had to have been some serious impact to _crack_ his helmet, and that thought was even worse. You went between picturing the accident and bargaining with the universe to take you instead. Kill you and give some semblance of normalcy back to MT and Latula. They deserved it more than you did. Your hands shook as you finally lit your cigarette.

The universe ignored your pleading, as it tends to do, and instead sent you the human being you least expected (and wanted) to see. 

You heard his shoes again. The clicking. But you ignored it, assuming it had to be literally any other person on the planet. You should've known Eridan didn't take well to being ignored. 

"That's a disgustin habit," he said, smoking a cigarette of his own. He stood a few feet behind you, wearing black slacks and a gray, long sleeve button-up. A purple scarf was draped around his neck beneath the collar of his coat. He didn't look at you; he watched the cars with narrow blue eyes behind his glasses.

"Please, just fuck off," you groaned. "I can't- I don't have the patience tonight." 

"I'm not here to bother you, I'm here cause this is the only fuckin place you can smoke for a mile around. It's a hospital," he answered. 

"Why the fuck are you even at this hospital? I figured every time someone in your family so much as scrapes a knee, you have a private doctor on call." You couldn't muster any venom for your words. It was a shot at him from an empty gun. 

"Normally, yeah, but the ambulance took my brother here after the accident."

The accident. His brother. You remembered what Latula said about the driver, and you stood up and turned over your shoulder to look at Eridan. You had a feeling you knew the answer, but still you asked, "What accident?"

"Cro was high as a kite an hit a motorcycle. He's a fuckin idiot-"

You didn't even think for a second how Eridan himself wasn't in the car, or even anywhere near the scene. The nonchalance he had talking about it made your blood boil. A motorcyclist. He didn't even know who it was. How did he not know? He didn't care enough to. He didn't care at all. This was just another night in the Ampora life.

You struck out and punched him in the face before you even gave it a second thought. 

It wasn't your best. Your whole body shook, and your breath was quick, preparing yourself for him to hit you back, but he just stood there. His glasses were crooked, but not a hair was out of place. 

"What the fuck?" he demanded. He still looked more surprised than upset, but you recognized the anger in his eyes. 

"That was my fucking brother he hit." You threw your cigarette on the cement, snubbing it out with your foot. 

"Sol, I didn't know-"

"Why would you? Why would you bother to know, since this is barely gonna take a dent out of the Ampora fortune anyway. It doesn't matter to you, but maybe you'll start paying attention when your brother goes to fucking jail."

"Jail?" Eridan repeated.

"He killed a child today by being 'a fucking idiot,' so I hope that goes over well with the rest of your family." You pushed past him after that, walking toward the doors.

He blinked as he processed it, eyes suddenly wide, then chased after you. "Are you serious?"

"Get the fuck out of my way," you spat. 

"That changes the whole case, Sol, he really could go to jail-"

"Good. I hope he fucking rots in a cell." 

You didn't look behind you anymore after that. You reentered the hospital and noticed the clicking of his shoes didn't follow you, which was a relief. You didn't have anything more to say to him. It wasn't his fault, and maybe that was something you would take into account later, but right now, you didn't care. You hoped you never saw another Ampora again outside of a court or a jail cell. That sounded like a pretty fucking good life. 

You went back in to be with your family for a little while longer. Mituna didn't say anything that night, but he fell asleep soundly with Latula curled up in the hospital bed with him. You and your father left around 6 or 7 AM, and he went straight to work once he got home. You, on the other hand, skipped classes that day, but you still couldn't sleep. You laid in bed, in the room you used to share with Mituna, and stared at the ceiling. Questions continued to run circles around your mind relentlessly, all without answers. Why Mituna. Why Latula. Why not you. 

Why. 

* * *

Four years later, you still thought about that question sometimes. Now, Mituna was long recovered from all his bodily injuries. The court case had been settled, with the largest sum of cash and coverage anyone in your family had ever seen being put on the table from the Amporas, as long as Latula didn't send their darling to jail. They took the settlement, of course; it covered Mituna's ICU bills, surgery, even therapy for months to come, with a little leftover. Her mom had stepped in as a lawyer if they needed it, but it was mostly handled outside of court. That made it easier on your family. You really just remembered going to have it officially closed, and you got to see Eridan, Cronus, and Dualscar all in a row. God, you never realized how similar they looked now that they were all grown up. It looked like someone took Dualscar, with his broad shoulders, sharp nose, and pinstriped suit, and diluted him with youth to make Cronus, then diluted some of the asshole to make Eridan. They were almost freakishly alike, especially when they all dressed in their fancy suits. 

But, it went fine. Cronus's apology seemed horribly staged, and was delivered with worse acting than a soap opera, but Eridan and Dualscar both seemed genuine. Dualscar especially had taken the liberty to offer your father other extraneous things, like rides to and from court or doctor's appointments, but Simon politely denied. The settlement was plenty to get your family through this, you didn't want to feel indebted. 

It settled. Life went on. Mituna got better at doing things like writing and cooking again, though he still tended to suffer from muscle spasms and similar things. He and Latula moved back in with Simon for a little while, just to help them both recover, but they moved out again to be on their own. Thankfully, it only seemed to make them stronger; they got married about two years after that. It wasn't big, just a little courthouse ceremony, but seeing Mituna the happiest he'd been since the accident was everything. He couldn't stop grinning. 

They were doing okay. Mituna was still childlike with a lot he used to be familiar with, but Latula wasn't giving up on him anytime soon, and neither were you and Simon. Little by little, he was still getting better. He adapted, even if the damage could never fully heal, and the impact could never be forgotten. They found happiness.

That eased the question from your mind some. Your luck hadn't run out seeing as it was never there to begin with, and maybe living your mediocre life balanced the scales and let Mituna return to his content one. You didn't believe in much. Not God, not a prophet, and certainly not some universal scheme that kept good and evil balanced, but if there was some system that required a sacrifice for another's happiness, you'd be more than willing to volunteer for Mituna. 

You were still, pretty much, a failure, as touched on earlier. You were still addicted to nicotine, you worked for a mind numbing IT company, and you occasionally hacked into a high school website because some teenager Venmo'd you $30. But, you were settled. You liked your shitty apartment. You were horribly allergic to cats, but sometimes you threw leftover snacks out the window at the fat one that lurked around your neighbor's door. You had a notorious Reddit profile, and when you chose to go out, you normally got laid if you tried.

That was your life now.

You sat at your computer chair at home, playing Minecraft. It was an obsession of yours from years earlier, but you recently rediscovered the download while attempting to free up space, and you decided to reboot it. It was exactly how you remembered, and you loved that. You weren't even breaking any rules yet, you were just having fun trapping villagers in a cobblestone prison and making them face off against other mobs. Simple but endless entertainment. 

You heard a phone buzz from the table next to your desk, so you rolled over to check it. It wasn't your work phone, thankfully, but your cell, and who should be texting other then Aradia. Just seeing her name pop up made you grin. She normally had good stories to tell when she hit you up.

apocalypseArisen [AA] started trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 15:21.

AA: hello captor may i speak with the hostage please

TA: captor re2iidence, ho2tage 2peakiing.

AA: this is ms megido inquiring about your upcoming availability

TA: ii can do lunch or diinner pretty much any day.  
TA: when diid you get back iin town? ii thought you were 2tiill iin 2paiin.

AA: i was, up until about... ten hours ago when i hopped on the plane  
AA: i just got in

TA: and ii'm your fiir2t call? how 2weet.

AA: who said you were my first?

TA: ouch, poiint taken. what about wedne2day?

AA: wednesday works  
AA: how about drinks instead of dinner

TA: 2ound2 good.

AA: ooh great ill text you

TA: ii'll be waiitiing. 

apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 15:35.

With that, the text conversation ended. You and her had been best friends since you were children, but she tended to be much more talkative in person. Texting with her sometimes even came across cold, despite her infallible lighthearted demeanor. You knew her well enough to not take a curt text conversation personally. You'd see her Wednesday, just two days from now, and you already knew she'd be diving into whatever amazing stories she had from Spain. She worked as a reporter, so she somehow managed to get away with traveling wherever she wanted. You had no idea how she did it. She was still young and new to the paper that hired her, yet she always succeeded in convincing her boss that there was some story in another country that was absolutely _critical_ to New York politics. Your only guess is that her boss had a soft spot or a crush on her, because it was insane. But, when you asked her about it, she'd just shrug, say something about her reporting skills, and move on. 

You were now excited for Wednesday, though. Seeing Aradia made your week. She was filled with weird, sometimes creepy stories, current events, and even straight up random information. Sometimes, she'd just show up with a pack of tarot cards to read for you. Sometimes it was a Ouija board. There was no predicting it, and you loved her for that. You even dated for awhile, during high school and again after graduation, but she was too adventurous to settle down. You took each other's V-cards, reconnected with more experience, and then decided you were better off as friends. She was an explorer, and you were a homebody. She liked having sex on a nude beach in Europe, and you liked getting drunk on tequila and ending up in a hotel room with a stranger. She liked meeting new people, and you sometimes didn't even answer your door for the girl scouts. You two linked up to update each other on your very opposing lives, but neither of you had any interest in doing anymore than that.

The days were, as usual, uneventful. Wednesday came, Aradia texted you a time and a bar, and you pulled yourself through the work day towards the light at the end of the tunnel. You actually bothered to look nice for it, wearing one of your few non-work button-ups and a pair of jeans. You hadn't gone out in awhile. It felt good to look good every once in a blue moon. 

Aradia, as always, looked beautiful. You spotted her as she lingered outside the bar in her little black dress and big furry coat, hair curled around her face. It nearly reached her ass now, it was so long. You waved, and upon recognition, she practically jumped on you.

"Sollux, ugh. I missed your bony ass," she smiled, loosening her arms from around your neck. She was almost a foot shorter than you, despite her heels. "You look nice."

"Thank you, AA. Your bony ass looks nice too."

"You know my ass isn't bony, but good try." Grin only widening, she pulled you inside. You were more than happy to follow. 

After grabbing some Long Island iced teas to kick off the bad decision making, you settled in at a high top table across from her. You were correct; she did have a plethora of stories from Spain. She swore she slept with a vampire there, and even showed you the hickey to prove it. You weren't convinced, but the two dark spots in the mark were pretty suspicious, you had to admit.

You didn't have any updates regarding your own life, so you were happy to listen to her tell you her favorite stories, while you occasionally chimed in with a story about Becky in the conference room. You didn't see how yours were even anywhere as interesting as hers, but she laughed like they were. It was fun, comfortable conversation. It made you feel like you were home. 

It was about 11 PM when your phone rang. Strange as that was, what was even stranger was the lack of caller ID. Again, it was your cell and not your work, so you couldn't imagine who the hell was on the other end of the line. Concerned it might be something to do with MT, you went outside in the light snow to answer it. "Hello?"

"Don't hang up," was the first thing you heard, but even in those brief few words, you recognized the voice. 

How the fuck did he even get your number? What the fuck did he want? Why the fuck was he calling at 11 PM? You were, admittedly, a little curious, so you didn't hang up. You just sighed. "Why are you calling me, Eridan?"

"I wouldn't be callin if it wasn't somethin important."

"What could you possibly have that'd be important to me?" 

"A job. Pays good, but it's last minute. My other tech guy just fell through." 

"How last minute." You contemplated this. Eridan saying it paid well was promising to you, and you always needed some extra cash in your pocket. 

He sucked his teeth. "Friday."

"Friday? This Friday?"

"Mhm."

"It better be fucking cut and dry, or pay a million bucks if you want it done by Friday." 

"I can't do a million, but how's $5,000 to start?" 

"...you're joking."

"Maybe more, dependin on complications."

The abruptness, the money, and the word _complications_ all coming from Eridan spelled out trouble. "Yeah, no. I'm not getting involved in whatever bank you're robbing. Try the next guy."

"Sol, it's not a bank robbery." He paused. "It is a home security job, though."

"Oh, a home robbery. My misunderstanding. Never mind, I'm in."

"I feel like you're bein sarcastic."

"Of course I'm being fucking sarcastic, are you serious? I'm not going to help you break into someone's goddamn house!" You glanced around you, but the other people lingering outside seemed distracted with their own conversations. Regardless, you lowered your voice. 

"$8,000."

... shit. You bit your lip. That was a lot of fucking money. That was a couple months' rent and groceries. You could help MT, since he was still having trouble keeping a job. You could help your dad. You could do a lot with that money. You wondered how far you could push it, so you one-upped him. "10."

"Fine. 10 grand." 

Was this compromising your ethics? Maybe. Ethics were made up, anyway. Your moral compass had been broken since you were a preteen, you won't lie to yourself. "Send me the details tonight so I can get started. And anything the other tech guy pieced together, send that to me, too." 

"I will, but listen, Sol. This stays only between you an me. You can't share these details with anyone else. Not so much as your fuckin pet fish."

"Client confidentiality."

"This goes deeper than that. You leak any a this information-"

"And I meet the gun in your glove compartment again?"

"To say the least."

"Charming. You've got my scout's honor. Can I get back to getting drunk now?" 

"I'll call you tomorrow." He hung up after that, and you were left staring at your phone. 

Did that just happen? 

You ordered another round for you and Aradia when you came back inside. You felt like you needed some more alcohol in your system before you could process that you just agreed to help Eridan break into a house for $10,000. Your dad would be so proud. 

You brought the glasses over to Aradia. She accepted another round with a little grin, and an eyebrow raised. "What was that about?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." 

"Really? Try me." 

You figured you could just tell Aradia who it was. You wouldn't give her any details. "It was Eridan. Ampora." 

Both eyebrows shot up at that. "What?"

You nodded, sipping your drink. 

"What the hell did he want?" she laughed. 

"Broken security cameras in the hotel. He needs help."

"At 11 PM?" 

"I'm going over to fix it tomorrow or Friday." 

"But he called you at 11 PM to ask?" 

"What are you implying?" You didn't like the little smirk on her face.

"You always did have a crush on each other." 

"I- no, it wasn't a booty call, and I never had a crush on him. What are you talking about?" 

"Stop playing it cool, it was a hundred years ago now. You can tell me. I know _something_ happened."

"AA, nothing happened except me kicking his ass." 

"Feferi sang a different tune, but okay," she hummed. She knew you'd bite.

You did. She knew you well. "What did Feferi say? When did you even talk to her?"

"We had a girls' night a few weeks ago," Aradia shrugged. "Apparently, Eridan said some choice things one wasted night senior year, about a special night in his car?" 

Your cheeks flushed, but you hoped it was dark enough for her not to notice. Or, at least, blame it on the alcohol. "I can't believe he told her." 

"What!" she slammed her palm on the table. "It's true?" 

"It's none of your business, is what it is." 

"Oh, Sollux, you can't stop there! What happened?" 

"I'm taking that to my grave." You held a finger up to her and drained your glass. 

No way were you admitting to Aradia that the first dick you half sucked was Eridan's, and the best head you ever received was Eridan in the same night. She didn't need to know that. Fuck Eridan for telling Feferi, and fuck Feferi for telling Aradia. You felt betrayed all the way around. 

"Well, if you could ask your boyfriend for an interview for me, I'd appreciate it," she grinned. "I've been trying to do an expose on the Ampora hotel tycoon for ages." 

"He's not my boyfriend, and I'm not asking him about an interview for you until he pays me. Then, only maybe, and only if you stop annoying me about whatever happened in high school."

She sighed, but she let the details of it go easily enough, with a bit more teasing. You both moved on pretty quickly after that, kept drinking, and got way too drunk. As you do, when your best friend is back in town, and you just signed your moral standard away for $10,000. Perfect storm for getting wasted. 

You said goodbye to Aradia around 3 AM, packing her in an Uber to get her home. You even drunkenly checked the license plate for her, then called one for yourself. Funny enough, you forgot to check the plates on your own Uber, but you ended up safe at home and passed out by 3:30.

And by 7, when your alarm went off, you felt properly like death. What the fuck were you thinking, going out on a Wednesday? Did you forget you work a 9-5, M-F? Whatever. It was worth it, you figured. 

You popped a handful of Advil and dragged your ass to the shower. You turned the water up just shy of boiling. Morning wood was present as ever, so you hoped a shower beat might relieve some tension. You slipped off your boxers and stepped in, and fuck. You were right. The water pelting against your back felt so good while you stroked yourself, letting out a loud sigh. You let yourself focus just on bucking your hips into your hand, falling into the rhythm. 

You were gonna see Eridan tomorrow. 

The thought popped into your head so suddenly at the same time you rubbed your thumb over a sweet spot, and you audibly gasped. Why were you thinking about that right now? Now, of all times?

Still, the thought persevered. Your mind raced as your hand pumped. You couldn't push the memories away; you kept thinking about his mouth on you, his hair in your grip, the way his bare chest looked in the pale light so long ago. You even thought about the gun. You imagined it in his hands, his pretty blue eyes staring down the sights- staring at you. Your heart pounded thinking about it. Thinking about him wielding it. It would probably feel so cold against your throat in contrast to the heat cascading over your body. It would probably feel like an ice cube against your temple. It would probably even taste like a soda can between your teeth. 

"Fuck-" you panted, quickening your movements. Were you getting off on Eridan holding a gun to your head? 

You thought about his head between your legs again and your stomach clenched. You imagined running your fingers through his hair while he sucked you off. You could see the handgun in the sheets next to him and you came hard, fast, with a cry out against the tile wall.

You looked at the stringy white jizz on your fingers, already slipping off in the shower water, and you decided to never address what just happened again. You don't even know how to feel about it. You just finished thinking about what haunted you your final semester in high school. 

Blame it on leftover alcohol. Jesus, you had to get yourself together before tomorrow night. You glanced over the email he sent, and he wanted you there by 7 PM. You didn't have a lot of time to come home from work before you had to go straight to the hotel to meet him. You couldn't very well pop a boner when you did. That would be embarrassing, not to mention unprofessional. 

You get ready for work after that without giving it another thought. Better to just suppress it until the job was over, then look up shady porn along similar lines, and be done with it. Thinking about it now was just going to make seeing him more difficult. You forced yourself to move on. You listened to music louder than normal in the car, reawakening the growing migraine from your hangover, but fuck. Worth it to tune yourself out. 

The rest of the morning at work, you dove into what you were focusing on. It was a simple issue with a school's program's algorithm, but you dedicated hours not only to fixing it, but upgrading the rest of the code to prevent other issues. Normally, you did the bare minimum. Going above and beyond like that was rare for you, but staring at lines of code, funny enough, cleared your mind. 

"Sollux," the receptionist tapped her knuckles against the corner of your desk. "Someone's got coffee for you up front." 

Jesus, you were so grateful for Aradia. You were so stressed this morning, you forgot caffeine, but it was just like her to remember and swing by. "Thanks, I'll be right up," you dismissed. You finished your last few lines of code before you hopped up to walk up front. 

It wasn't Aradia. 

You blinked, staring at the man for a long moment. Eridan's attention was down at his phone, a paper carrier of two coffee cups in his other hand. He looked taller than you remembered. His hair was cleaner. That stupid purple tuft was washed out, but he replaced it with a blond streak in the same spot, blended into the black waves around it. A little gemstone sparkled in his ear, and you could see a chain and more tattoos peaking out from beneath his shirt collar and under the cuffs of his sleeves. They even crawled down and scrawled over his knuckles underneath his gaudy rings. He was wearing a slim black coat over a light blue shirt, tucked into grey flannel pants, and you hated how nice he looked. Almost like a gentleman.

You knew better than that.

You walked up and grabbed his shoulder, yanking him into the hallway outside the office. "Hey-" he started, but you cut him off. 

"What are you doing here? How did you even find out where I work?" you hissed, keeping your voice low. 

"I brought you coffee," he offered the carrier. "I wanted to talk in person about this deal. You're not a hard person to find, anyway."

You did take the cup of coffee. Fuck, it smelled good as hell, and you needed a sip. Seeing him in person, you felt like you were hallucinating. You weren't sure you _weren't_ hallucinating, honestly. Maybe you passed out on your desk and this was a weird, hungover, unconscious dream. 

"Can we go somewhere an talk? You have an office?"

"No, I don't have a damn office." Sipping your coffee of concession, you passed him to the stairs. There's a bench outside the office building that came to your mind, so that was where you went to sit. Eridan followed, crossing his legs as he sat beside you. 

"So, what details do you want to provide me with?" you asked. 

"Have you looked at the stuff I sent you?" He glanced around the parking lot, taking note of anything of interest, before he sat back completely. 

"It was barely 12 hours ago. I've glanced, but I haven't started working."

"I'm concerned you're gonna need to be onsite. I was hopin it could be done remotely, but the other guy ran into a problem he felt like he needed to be there for."

"There for, as in at the house? The house you're breaking into?" you repeated. "That doesn't seem like a good idea to me."

"I just want you to be prepared for that possibility if it comes to that. You committed to this, you gotta see it through."

"The last guy didn't see it through."

"Don't worry about the last guy."

Oh. That was great to hear. You sighed, running your hand through your hair. You did commit to this, didn't you? And you wanted that fucking $10K. "Fine. I'll look at all the options, and I'll let you know." 

"Okay. An you know I was serious about keepin it quiet, right?" 

"Figured that, yes." 

He slipped a phone out of his pocket. "This has my number an a few other emergency contacts. Bring this with you when you come on Friday, don't bring your regular cell. I don't want anyone trackin you."

"No one tracks me."

"Just take the burner, please."

You resigned and took the phone out of his hand. You scrolled through it, then tucked it in your pocket. "You got it, boss." 

"And- you should prepare yourself. I wanna keep you trapped up in the tower, but if I can't, you have to get ready to dive into somethin serious." 

"What are my chances of survival?"

"Survival? 100%. I won't let you get hurt, an that's a promise. Don't let that concern you."

"Then what are you suggesting I be concerned about?" 

"Just seein somethin you don't wanna see."

You mulled that over in your mind. Seeing something you didn't wanna see. That could mean a lot of things, but it was another notch on the list of the word you didn't want to say. But, Eridan was right. You needed to prepare yourself. "Ed," you began. "Is this the mafia?"

He said nothing. You looked over to read his expression. He watched the cars, he sipped his coffee, and finally, he nodded. "Goes by a few different names."

"Is one of those names the mafia?"

He shrugged. The asshole. 

"I feel like this isn't a difficult question." 

"Yeah, Sol. You could call it the mafia. Just don't mention that around my dad, huh?"

"I should've known your dad was the ringleader. He's in charge? Is he Don Corleone?" 

"Oh, God. _Definitely_ don't say that around him. I can't protect you from him, an he may just kill you for sayin that." You both snickered, but you couldn't ignore the truth that came with that. 

Note to self: do not call Dualscar Ampora Don Corleone, at risk of losing your head. You wouldn't slip up on that any time soon. "Is that what happened to the last guy? He's sleeping with the fishes?" 

"You gotta knock off the Godfather jokes," he snorted. "Seriously, get em all out now. Can't bring that shit around my family." 

"If I think of any more, I'll text you." 

"If you have to." 

You drained the rest of your coffee. So good, gone so quick. "Thanks. I needed this today," you said, with a shake of your empty cup.

"I figured you would. You hung up last night to go get drunk."

You chuckled. "Yeah. I sure did." You were still regretting it slightly, but the caffeine eased some of the pain. "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"I think that's about it. I may call you again tomorrow to check in. Make sure you answer."

"Sounds good. And- next time, do you think you could call before showing up, too? I know you come from a long line of socially stunted criminals, but that's what people normally do." 

"Yeah, whatever. I'll try an remember that."

"It's not hard."

"Whatever."

You stood up to throw the cup away. He lingered on the bench still, fiddling in his coat pocket. He drew out a cigarette, followed by a lighter.

"That's a disgusting habit," you echoed. 

He waved you away. "Fuck off." 


	3. Workaholic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You join the mafia.  
> Does this count as selling your soul? It feels a bit like it.

You worked the rest of the day, and instead of passing out immediately or eating dinner, you decided to take a look at what Eridan sent you. You had little more than 24 hours to get a plan completely, infallibly in order to break into a house, at risk of 1. being arrested, 2. being murdered by the people in the house, or 3. being murdered by your high school crush turned mobster. 

No stress. 

You narrowed in on this project, setting everything else aside. Eridan wasn't kidding when he said last minute. You were worried you'd have to pull an all-nighter to get this done. The security system wasn't overly complicated, but you didn't have a ton of experience with systems like it, and the fear of metaphorically snipping the wrong wire and literally blowing the whole job to bits was weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Again, no stress.

You chugged a Monster, heated up some frozen waffles, and ripped into that security system like there was no tomorrow.

After passing out again around 4 something AM, you dragged yourself to work and continued perfecting your plan. At that point, you were thoroughly familiar with the set up, but you didn't have any room for error. It had to be bulletproof. You ignored your current real job in favor of this.

Your phone buzzed a little after noon. Part of you was surprised to see Eridan's name, but another part expected him to hover, especially over you.

caligulasAquarium [CA] started trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 12:37.

CA: howws it comin

TA: fiine. iit'2 not that compliicated, actually.

TA: ii miight need two have a phy2iical component, liike you 2aiid. but mo2t of iit can be done remotely. ii'll keep playiing wiith iit.

CA: perfect  
CA: theres one more thing

TA: oh, great. what'2 that?

CA: do you havve a suit?

TA: a 2uiit? why would ii need a 2uiit?

CA: normally wwe do suits around here  
CA: its important to look nice

TA: je2u2, you really take your2elf that 2eriiou2ly? that'2 hiilariiou2.

CA: do you havve a suit or not

TA: not.

CA: ugh  
CA: ill havve one for you to try on  
CA: think you can be here by 6?

TA: fiine. 6 2o we can play dre22 up.  
TA: 2tiill the hotel, riight?

CA: yeah  
CA: just call wwhen youre in the parkin garage an ill tell you wwhere to go

TA: iit'2 a date.

caligulasAquarium ceased trolling twinArmageddons at 13:05.

Great. Now you had even less time to go home and get your shit together. It was gonna be a long night for you, huh?

You worked, and you worked, and you took a power nap at your desk, and you worked some more. 5 o'clock rolled around. Your fate was only looming closer. The more frequently you checked your watch, the more nervous you were. You followed Occam's razor and went with the easiest route to avoid unnecessary complexities, but that meant having a physical component you and Eridan were worried about. You condensed it to a single, straightforward flash drive. Maybe, you could stay in the hotel and Eridan could just take the little flash drive and plug it in. You knew he was an idiot, but you hoped he could figure that much out.

You sped home to shove your things in your backpack. Your own laptop, the flash drive with the bug, a backup flash drive with the same content, and a third with the complementary code that would remotely enable the bug and disable the system. And another can of Monster you started chugging in the car.

You wore a black t-shirt and black sweatpants. It was the closest thing you had to a criminal outfit, and it sounded like Eridan was going to make you change regardless. You cruised down into the lower parking garage, and holy hell. You'd forgotten how massive the Ampora hotels were. It was getting dark earlier, making the neon logo figure of a man pouring a vase of water feel almost Vegas-y at the top of the huge, glimmering building. This was the biggest one in the city, but you knew there were a few others scattered through New York and even New Jersey. Sometimes, it was just impossible to wrap your mind around the wealth of this family. These hotels weren't even their main source of income; they were a _front._ For the fucking _mafia._

This was insane. What the fuck were you doing? You considered turning around now, but you couldn't do it. You'd prepared everything, you'd worked on this, and you really needed that money. You checked the time (6:02) and called Eridan off the burner, as requested. He answered immediately and told you to just wait in the lobby.

You grabbed your backpack and headed upstairs into the lobby, all lavishly decorated and embroidered with gold. It felt like the kind of hotel rich people got married in. It was the kind of hotel that called you poor as soon as you walked in. Your sneakers did not make a satisfying loud clicking on the marble floors. Maybe Eridan had a clicky pair you could borrow to really embody the organized criminal asshole aesthetic.

Speaking of the devil, you heard the clicks against the crisp marble floor. You turned to see Eridan there, all dressed up for his night out. He actually looked a bit underdressed compared to what you might've expected; he had a long sleeve violet shirt on and an open black vest, and a pair of pinstriped black trousers. His hair was, of course, immaculately styled, and there were rings stacked on his fingers, but his shirt was unbuttoned enough to see the neck of his undershirt.

"That's what you're wearin?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you were gonna make me change anyway," you answered with a shrug.

"Yeah, fine. Come on," he accepted, gesturing for you to follow him to the elevators. You did. He walked quickly and spoke curtly, more so than usual. He didn't even tease you that much. Was he... nervous? 

If Eridan was nervous, what the hell were you in for?

You had a relatively quiet ride up. Eridan fiddled with one of his rings and tapped his foot. You weren't close with him in high school, as you've made very obvious, but you still had never seen him like this. You sipped your Monster, feeling your own nerves itch just watching him. 

"Can you stop?" you asked as the lights in the elevator continued to flash up level after level. Of course this asshole lived in the penthouse. 

"Stop what?" 

"You're just- you're fiddling, and it's making me nervous." 

"I'm not fuckin fiddlin."

"Are you nervous?"

"No." 

"You seem nervous."

"I ain't nervous."

"I just think you seem nervous."

"I ain't- shut the fuck up." 

You snickered. He rolled his eyes.

The elevator doors slid open. "I'm a lil nervous, okay?" he admitted. He crossed the hallway to an unlabeled door. "I vouched for you, an I'm really fuckin nervous somethin ain't gonna fly." 

"It's gonna be fine, Ed. Relax. I've got everything set up."

He leaned against the door for a moment to raise his eyebrows. "You'd better. That's all I gotta say."

"Sounds like you really believe in me."

Turning away, he pushed the door open. "What other choice do I have?"

Such an inspiring leader. You followed him into the apartment, again floored by the Ampora lifestyle. You had a feeling that was going to be a trend. The penthouse was almost completely designed in shades of black and white; dark stained hardwood floors, black marbled counter tops, and honestly freaky Rorschach curtains draped in front of massive, floor to ceiling windows. It creeped you out how tall and intimidating those curtains were, and you looked up to find that the ceiling was much higher than that in the kitchen. No wonder the windows felt so big. 

Eridan didn't seem to pay your reaction any mind. He walked in and went straight to a low ball glass of whiskey on the counter, taking a brief swig from it. Apparently, this was just where Eridan lived. He seemed more than comfortable tidying things up for a second, and when you looked around again, it made more sense. The framed Aquarius design amidst other art on the wall should've been a quicker giveaway, and the fact that the only color in the room was a few touches of violet. He always was a pretentious fuck. Seeing him in a place like this simply made sense.

You felt something bump curiously around your ankles, and you prepared yourself to sneeze, but when you looked down, a raw chicken was looking back. The cat had no fur at all, just pink folds of skin and massive eyes. He blinked. You blinked back.

"That's Caesar, don't mind him," Eridan said from behind the counter. "He's just nosy." 

"I'm actually allergic to cat fur, so this works out well." You've never been able to pet a cat before, due to said allergies, but this one -Caesar, again pretentious- didn't really pose a threat in that regard. Huh. You crouched down to let him sniff your fingers, then he let you run a hand down his bony spine. He was hideous, but in the same way... kind of cute. And, he didn't make your face swell up. That was a bonus. 

"I'm gonna go get a suit for you to try on. You can help yourself to anythin, there's coffee in the pot, whatever." He waved dismissively, then disappeared up a set of spiral stairs. 

Stairs. In a New York apartment, where he lived alone. How many fucking rooms were in this place? You were gonna kill this dude (and take his cat). 

Caesar seemed easy enough to steal. He followed you as you dumped your bag on one of the bar stools tucked underneath the counter, then he followed you as you explored the downstairs. The kitchen and the den were open, framed by those humongous windows, but there were a few doors tucked behind the spiral staircase. You poked your head in to find a fancy bathroom, a made up guest bedroom, and an office. Boring.

Eridan came back down the stairs with a few of those hanging suit bag things you didn't know the name of. He didn't seem bothered by you looking around. In fact, he didn't even comment. There was definitely something going on with this man. There was no way he'd let you off without even a tease. 

But, he did. He folded the suits over the back of the couch, searching through them to find what he wants. He pulled a pair of pants from one and the other half of the ensemble from another to account for your stupidly long legs, no doubt. What a gentleman. 

"This might not fit, but it's somethin to start with." He held out the combo. "Looks like you found the bathroom, so you can just change in there an show me when you're done." 

You nodded. He didn't seem very talkative tonight, or really in the mood to bicker, so you didn't push it. You took the suit pieces and went to go change. The first and last time you were a full suit like this was Mituna's wedding. It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't your style, either. Suits were stuffy, too short in the arms, and in general, unnecessary. You would've even protested putting on one tonight, but you felt bad for Eridan. He seemed genuinely stressed, and if he was stressed and he grew up around this lifestyle, what did that mean for you? 

It was probably best just to listen to him. You changed into the suit. It was, as you predicted, stuffy, too short in the arms, and unnecessary, but it was a suit. It slipped low on your hips as you walked out of the bathroom. 

It made Eridan laugh. So, that was nice. You looking terrible in a suit was much needed stress relief for him.

"Come on, it's not that bad," you sighed, holding your arms out to either side. 

"It's not. The coat's just too big for your shoulders, an you look like a 12 year old." 

"Thanks," you groaned.

"It's workable." He beckoned you to come in closer. "Take the coat off. I'll find a belt." 

You walked over, taking the coat off to lay it over the couch with the rest. "Does the shirt look okay?"

"Shirt looks fine, actually. I'll find you a tie an you can probably go without the coat." 

"Whatever you say, boss." You leaned against the back of the couch while Eridan again went upstairs, this time returning with a belt and a tie. 

"So what'd you figure out for tonight? Need to be on site with us, or can it be done remotely?" 

You yanked the pants up and threaded the belt through. That felt a little better. With them higher up on your waist, it exposed a few more inches of your socks. Made you regret wearing the pair with the Minecraft bees Mituna picked out as soon as that update dropped, but maybe the other mobsters were a fan of the 'craft as well. "Yeah. The way the system is set up to be closed on its own server, so to interrupt it-"

"That information ain't helpful to me," he said, zipping up the remaining suits. "Just answer the question."

"It's not- okay. Part of it has to be done physically so I can activate the remote part, does that answer your question?" 

"Not entirely," he continued idly. He held the light blue tie up to your throat and considered it, then handed it to you. "Are you comin with us or not?" 

"Well, the thing is, I loaded the physical part onto a flash drive that can just be inserted and should download automatically into the system. So, if you or one of your- goons could do that much, then I can stay remote." You let the tie sit in your hand before you remembered. "I can't tie this."

"You can't tie a tie?"

"I don't wear ties. Why would I remember how to tie one?" 

He sighed and took the tie back, stepping closer to tuck it underneath your collar. His hands were, oddly, gentle as he evened it out, then started to tie it. You could see all the ink starting to fade across his knuckles, hidden by his rings that glimmered as his fingers moved. "Anyway. I think we could take care a the physical part if that'd make it easier. Just a flash drive?" 

He was definitely taller than you remembered. He was directly at eye level, maybe even slightly above? When did he get taller than you? His eyes were down as he folded the tie, giving you a moment to look over his face. He grew into those fucking cheekbones, and that jaw. In fact, even the curve of his lips could've been cut from marble. You felt the hair on your neck prickle remembering what you were thinking about just yesterday in the shower. What got you off. Fuck, you shouldn't be thinking about it now, but you had to wonder if he had a gun on him now you couldn't even see. It wouldn't surprise you. 

"Sol." 

Oh, he was done with the tie. Whoops. "What?"

"It's just a flash drive?"

"Wh- yeah, it's just a flash drive. I can do everything else remotely."

"We could probably handle that." He tightened the tie, but he didn't step back. 

"Okay, yeah. Then I can stay remote." The tie looked nice, you guessed. You sure felt fancier than you did coming in, though you still only had socks on. Still, was this how criminals felt? If so, you could get used to it, honestly. You, admittedly, enjoyed the way Eridan was lingering close to you right now.

"Are you not nervous?" he asked, and if you weren't before, the look he gave you changed that.

"I'm freaking out," you said honestly, despite your monotone voice.

"You do a good job hidin it."

"The best thing I can do right now is just my job. Panicking won't help anyone."

"Yeah. Good point," he accepted it with a nod, then started collecting the suits. "What shoes did you come in with?"

"Uh. Sneakers?" 

"Those won't work. Size?" 

"13." 

"Jesus, okay. I shouldn't be surprised. You know what they say about big feet." He threw the suits over his arm, making himself chuckle as he went up the stairs.

It made you smile a bit, too, before you realized he'd _seen_ your dick. "Wait, Ed, was that a joke about my dick?" 

Either he didn't hear, or he chose not to respond. You have a feeling it was a choice. You shook your head and grabbed your clothes from the bathroom, packing them into your backpack with everything else. Eridan came back with a pair of glossy back shoes and dropped them on the floor next to you. "Try em." 

After packing up your bag, you sat on the floor to slip em on. They fit just fine, except for the fact that they were horribly uncomfortable. "They feel like torture devices."

He crouched down to squeeze the toe like your dad used to do, then he stood up, evidently satisfied. "Yeah, they're not broken in. You'll be fine for tonight."

"I can't wear my sneakers?" 

"Holy shit, no, you can't wear fuckin _sneakers_ with that $2500 suit, are you insane?" 

"This costed _how much_?"

"Too much for you to wear beat up sneakers. You can deal with the discomfort for a handful of hours, you'll be fine."

You dusted your thighs off and stood up, stretching your legs. The shoes weren't terrible, visually. "How do I look?" 

"Stupidly tall, but not bad. You clean up nice, Captor."

"Stop, you're gonna make me blush."

"Next time, we just gotta fix your hair." He reached out to tousle it, and you batted him away. 

"Over my dead body."

"Come on, you could look so good." 

"You had purple in your hair for four fucking years, I'm never letting you near mine."

He snorted as he found the whiskey glass he'd left on the counter, draining the rest of it. "Can't argue with that. Want anythin to drink?"

"I'm fine," you waved. He topped his own glass off. 

"Suit yourself." He leaned his elbows against the counter and sipped slowly. "You'll get to meet my dad again."

You lifted your shoulders. Dualscar was scary and could undoubtedly kill you as easily as he could kill an ant on his kitchen floor, but he wasn't the worst Ampora when he was in an okay mood. You'd seen him genuinely bothered one time, and that… was plenty. You would just be quiet around him, and it'd be fine. "Fun," you mused. "Is your brother gonna be there?"

He nodded, and _that_ was the no go for you. Cronus was easily the worst person you'd ever been around.

"I can work from up here," you said instead. "I don't want to be in the same room as him."

"It'll just be for, like, ten minutes. An he won't talk to you."

"Eridan, that asshole almost killed my brother." You pleaded with him, mostly with your eyes. "You have to understand that."

He took a longer sip from his glass.

"Eridan."

"Sol, I can't kick him out because he's an asshole. It's kinda a _family_ asshole business."

"Then kick me out. I cannot work with him in the same room, I just can't. I won't."

"Where do you wanna work, then?"

"Here? In an adjacent room? The public fucking library? I don't care as long as he's not there," you argued.

Rubbing his temple, he closed his eyes. "Okay. I'll see what I can do."

"Aren't we running out of time?" You flipped your wrist to check your watch. 6:43.

"Please don't remind me."

"Is there something about tonight you haven't told me?"

He moved his hand to cover his face. "It's complicated."

"If it's something to do with tonight, I feel like I have a right to know."

"No, it doesn't really affect you," he mumbled, then dropped his hand. Caesar sprung up on the counter, eager to be pet. He obliged, watching his own hand closely as it stroked down Caesar's naked back. "I just have a lotta responsibility in tonight goin well, that's all. There've been a few wild cards I wasn't ready for."

"Like me."

"Like you."

You understood that. "I'm sure it'll be fine," you offered. "I mean, you grew up around this stuff, didn't you?"

"Yeah." He stood up, delicately running a hand more over his hair rather than through it. Judging from the movement it had (or lack thereof), it was pretty securely gelled. Some things never do change. 

You mirrored him and threw your backpack over your shoulder. Your Monster was now pretty room temperature, but it was still better than passing out on the keyboard. You took a swig. 

"You're right. We gotta head down soon," he sighed, and he, again, drained his glass. 

"What are you gonna do about Cronus?" you reminded. 

"I dunno yet. I'll just- I'll go in an talk to him first. It'll be easier to figure it out like that. You really can't-"

"No, I really can't."

"Just for a little bit?"

"No, Ampora. Not even for a little bit. I'd die a happy man if I never saw his face ever a-fucking-gain."

"Fuck, okay. Fine. I'll work it out, let me work it out with him. I promise I won't make you work with him."

"Can I get that in writing?" 

"Yeah, it'll be up your ass in 3-5 business days."

"Notarized?" 

"I'm not a barbarian. Now stay here a minute while I go get dressed." He dumped the ice in his glass into the sink and the glass in the dishwasher. He was already starting toward the stairs. You watched, a little amazed. He already had on a dress shirt and fancy pants, not to mention the vest and the shoes? What more did he need?

"Are you not dressed right now?" 

"You think this is dressed?"

That felt rhetorical, also like it was going to have a hurtful answer, so you didn't respond. Even though, yes. To you, that was dressed. Overdressed, arguably. But, he somehow came downstairs looking even fancier. He had donned on a matching pinstriped suit coat, a narrow black tie, and he was buttoning up the few buttons on the vest as he walked. 

"Okay, got your stuff?" he asked, looking up. He'd replaced his glasses with contacts, too. The last time you saw him without glasses was in the car-

Stop fucking thinking about that. Thinking about that was doing no good for anyone, least of all you. You needed to focus. Thinking about your current boss giving you blowjob during your senior year in high school was _not_ focusing. You hadn't thought about it in years, but now it seemed to be the only thought bursting in your head when you looked at Eridan and his pretty blue eyes. Shake it off. You had to shake it off.

"Yeah, I'm ready." You drained your can and tossed it in the garbage, along with your dirty thoughts. You were focusing now. 

"Okay. It's just downstairs, so- I'll go in first an figure it out with Cro, then I'll let you know when you can come in. Deal?" 

"Deal."

Let the night begin. 

Your shoes clicked now, too, as you followed Eridan into the elevator. You could see why he liked it so much. There was definitely a satisfaction to it. You felt like a huge douchebag, but a confident one. Maybe you were just feeding off of Eridan, though. As he left the apartment, he genuinely seemed to exude big dick energy, for lack of a better term. He rolled his shoulders as he stepped out of the elevator, cocking his head to either side to crack his neck. 

There were several doors lining the hotel hallway on this level, but one had a guard outside of it. He was wearing a plain suit, with a pretty menacing looking gun resting over his shoulder. He acknowledged the two of you silently. Mental note never to come to this level without Eridan. 

"Stay here a minute," he said, approaching the room. "I'll go talk to Cro, an then I'll come back out an let you know what the deal is." 

You nodded. You'd just... hang out here with the sentry. That sounded fun. "Thanks."

He waved you off and entered the room. You spent some quality time with your new best friend, the sentry. After a few minutes, you asked for his name. He didn't answer. You decided not to prod, seeing as he had the largest gun you'd ever seen in real life, and you wouldn't like to see what it could do to you if you asked how his day went. Though, judging from a creepy looking scar on his cheek and his sunshiny demeanor, it might not have gone so well. 

You stood there and patiently waited for Eridan's return. When the door swung open finally, the momentum and aggression should've immediately given away that it was not Eridan. You and the sentry both snapped to attention as Cronus burst into the hallway. You hadn't seen him since the trial, and you had honestly been more than okay with that. But now, he was so close, you could see a vein popping in his neck, and strands of gray already tugging at his temples. The collar of his dress shirt was ruffled, the button at his throat ripped open. 

He turned on his heel as soon as he saw you, and you sucked in a breath.

"Too good to be in the same fuckin room as me, huh?" he demanded. He stepped in front of you too quickly for you to move. "Don't wanna be too close? Is this too close?"

You were an adult now. In high school, you would've surely swung by now, but you knew there would be no stopping Cronus if you did. You could only imagine how much brute strength he could pack into a punch, not to mention the array of weapons he surely had hidden. You had a feeling the sentry wouldn't be on your side, either, if you punched Don Corleone's son, despite how closely you two bonded in the past few minutes. 

So, you didn't swing. You didn't move. You let him box you in. "Yes," you said simply. "I can smell the fish on your breath way too well." 

Wrong answer. He thrust his hand against your neck and pinned you to the wall, leering. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" 

He was gonna kill you. Oh, God, he was gonna murder you. You saw how little remorse he had after the accident, and now you knew he worked for the mob. Not even worked for; he _was_ the mob. If anyone was going to murder you without batting an eye, without even the consideration for mercy, after you asked not to be in a room with them, it was Cronus Ampora, Jr., and he currently had you by the throat and was gradually pressing his thumb and fingers deeper and deeper into your windpipe. 

You were gonna die. You couldn't argue and say you hadn't asked for this. You asked to die instead of your brother, and here you were: dying at the hands of the guy who tried to kill him. Was this poetic? 

Almost instinctively, you grabbed for his wrist, but his grip didn't falter. He didn't hesitate. Your vision started spotting with him inches away from your face. If it wasn't starting to get blurry, you could almost read the tattoo script beneath his eye, but it seemed so distant. 

"Not so tough now, are you? No court to protect you, no lawyers, not even a cheap, cracked helmet."

You weren't sure if it was adrenaline coursing through your veins or pure hate, but either way, you couldn't muster enough oxygen to voice it. You did, however, have enough saliva pooling in your mouth for something far worse. You spat. Your aim was imperfect, granted, but with him this close, you couldn't miss. 

He loosened his grip for a refreshing second that didn't last long enough, because he only loosened it to reel back and slam his fist clear across your face. The momentum of it twisted your head toward the wall, but his grasp on your neck forced you to remain forward. Your breath shook raggedly as you gasped, lungs clawing for air that was being restricted. Now, in addition to the black dots cropping up in your vision, the hallway was spinning. Was that blood on your tongue? 

When the hand at your throat was taken away, you didn't even think about how, or why. You slipped down against the wall, watching two pairs of pinstriped legs dance in front of you. There was some shouting, then footsteps- no, _stomps-_ receding. Hm. 

You recognized Eridan's face as he crouched down in front of you. Truth be told, you first recognized the smell of his cologne. He was a creature of habit; you could identify that scent anywhere. He took you by the chin, turning your head gently to either side.

"Perfect timing," you mumbled. "Couldn't have made it out any earlier?"

"Trust me, I tried." He sighed, remaining squatted in front of you. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy." 

"Sol, _fuck_. I'm so fuckin sorry. I tried to stop him-"

"It's fine, Ed."

"It's not-"

"It's not, but all he did was prove my point. He's a dirty asshole with anger issues and an impulse control problem. If I had any respect for him at all, it'd be gone now."

"Yeah. You can say that again." Still eye to eye with you, he exhaled through his nose. "I am sorry. I shoulda let you stay upstairs, or _somethin_ -"

"I'm okay. I just want to get this done and get paid."

With a nod, Eridan pushed himself back up to stand. He offered you a hand, and you took it to pull yourself back up. Your balance was already coming back, and your vision was much more clear. Funny how getting oxygen flow back to your brain really helped you think. 

You still leaned against Eridan for a moment, but then you wrung your hands out. You were fine. Shaken up, in pain, but fine. Just fine. You had work to do, and you weren't going to let a punch throw you off your game. Nope. You were fine, and not at all concerned with the throbbing bruise you could feel rising on your cheekbone. Fuck. People at work Monday were going to ask what happened to you. You couldn't very well say _the heir to the mafia throne punched me in the face cause I said I didn't want to be in the same room as him after he nearly killed my brother in a car accident_. Well, maybe you could. Not like they'd fucking believe you.

Eridan led you into the room, filled with similar goons to the sentry outside. All in suits, all creepy and unfriendly, and all eyes watching you and Eridan. Guess the fight wasn't exactly quiet. He gestured to a nice desk just inside the door, fit with a computer and several monitors. The operating system looked a bit outdated, but expensive. You could work with it, and you were, honestly, relieved to be back in your own element. 

"I'd normally introduce you, but-"

"Maybe it's okay to skip over that," you agreed. You took a seat in front of the computers. "I'll just get set up here?" 

"Yeah. You just get set up here," he repeated. "I gotta go talk to my dad."

Shit. You'd forgotten about the third Ampora (or the first, really), who looked none too pleased as he sat in the corner, at a round table. He shuffled a deck of cards in his hands, a similar low glass of booze in front of him to the one Eridan was sipping earlier. His eyes, hidden behind his heavy brow and sliced through by the two, lightning shaped scars, unwound you like a loose thread on a sweater. 

You looked back at Eridan. "Sounds like a blast."

"Yeah, you wanna come?" he snorted. 

"Not to be dramatic, but one Ampora has already tried to kill me tonight, and that's plenty. Just tell him I say hi."

"I'm not gonna do that."

"That makes sense."

"So you're good here?" he asked, with a general hand toward the desk. "Anythin I can get you?"

"If you have migraine medicine, that'd be perfect. Or generic headache is fine."

"I'll look." 

He gave your shoulder a pat and a squeeze as he crossed the room. Thankfully, Dualscar's eyes followed him instead of you. That gaze would've been weighing too heavily on you all night. Now, it was just you and the computers: exactly how you liked it. You were more than ready to dive into setup and focus on that instead of anything else in the world. This was where you excelled. You had your own little corner surrounded by technology. This was your world. 

You submerged yourself in it for as long as you could, clicking away, distracted from the bustling room of mobsters. You just wouldn't think about how you were in a room of mobsters. Or about how Cronus could come back and easily kill you, and it would never, ever be investigated. Or, really, anything about Eridan. 

Easy enough. You drowned all of that in setting up the computers and loading everything you prepared.

You weren't sure how long it was before Eridan tapped your shoulder again, but it made you jump.

"How's it comin?" he asked. You smelled a bit more smokey alcohol on his breath than earlier. The men passed behind him as they filtered out.

"Fine." You drummed your fingers on the table. 

"Everythin look alright?" 

"Yeah." 

He nodded, lingering by the desk. "Still okay?"

"Still okay," you echoed. "Are you okay?" 

"I'll be better once this shit is over, is all I can say." He tucked his hands in his trouser pockets.

"Sounds about right. I've got cameras up, if you wanna take a look. Right now, we can see them, but I can't actually take anything down without the flash drive." You found that from where it was sitting on the desk and extended it to Eridan.

He tucked it in his breast pocket and leaned in, looking over your shoulder. "So this is the house."

"Don't lose that," you chided first, then you clicked through a few different angles. "Yeah, this is the house. Outside, inside, everything. They did a pretty good job covering all the blind spots. I think I can see every room pretty thoroughly." 

"Can you see guards?"

"Yup. I counted 5, mostly around the entrances. Here, here, and here," you said as you enlarged certain screens. 

"Think you can stay on the phone with me the whole time? It's helpful to have eyes."

"Yeah, I don't see why not."

"Great. You don't- just be ready to look away."

"What?"

"Did you not hear me, or do you want me to elaborate?" 

You didn't want him to elaborate. Once you thought about it yourself, you didn't want to think about it anymore. You dismissed him. "No, I got it. Thanks for the warning."

He brushed your shoulder again as he stood up. "Mhm. Just tell me when to put this USB in, or if there's some creep behind us, okay?" 

"You got it, boss." 

"Do you wanna stick around for a smoke later?"

You looked at the security cameras displayed, at the mobster with a more than complicated history next to you, and you thought about how the two might unpleasantly collide in less than an hour. It was an easy question. "A smoke would be great."

With that, Eridan left with his troupe of goons, to go... break into a house. And yet you still thought he was hot. It was funny how the human brain worked. After about five minutes, your burner rang. You answered it and put it on speaker. "Sup."

"We're leavin the hotel now, should probably make it to the house in about 30."

"You wanna stay on the phone for the 30 minute car ride?" you snorted.

"Sorry, didn't realize you had somethin better to do."

You glanced up and made eye contact with Dualscar. How long had he been staring? Ugh. It gave you chills. You dropped your head again. "Nope, nothing comes to mind. I'm all yours."

"I'd hope so. I'm payin you too much for you not to entertain me."

"Oh, that's what you're paying me for? Entertainment?"

"When you say it like that, you sound like an escort." 

"Eheheh. You said it like that."

"Did not."

"Did too. Anyway." You spun your chair around idly. "Did your brother get over himself?"

"No. I dunno where he went."

"What? You don't know where he is? He could still be here?" That made you a little nervous. Someone tried to stop Eridan from coming to your rescue earlier, and you had a feeling the only person he'd listen to was currently sitting at the table in the opposite corner. If Dualscar almost let Cronus murder you in the hallway, he sure as fuck wasn't going to step in if Cronus went for it again. 

"Nah. I'm sure he's just on the roof assassinatin pigeons or some shit, though. Don't worry about it."

You were worrying about it. 

"He'll get over it, Sol, really. He's got a goldfish's attention span. I need all your focus on this."

"I can't focus on this if he comes back in and chokes me out," you pointed out, whispering it so Dualscar didn't hear you. He probably heard you anyway.

"He's not- you sound ridiculous. He ain't gonna come back in an choke you out."

"Ed, he already did it once. Is it really that ridiculous?"

His end of the phone was silent for a long moment, then he finally said, "Maybe not, but still."

"Maybe not?!"

"Just stop thinkin about it!"

"Stop thinking about it?! He-"

"Yes, stop thinkin about it."

"How is that supposed to keep me safe?"

"I didn't say that, I just want your attention on this."

You huffed. "I'm gonna die." 

"Relax, if he wanted to kill you, you'd be dead."

"How the fuck is that supposed to help me relax?"

"Because you're not dead."

"You suck."

"How's the house lookin?"

"Are you trying to distract me from your murderous brother?"

"Yes."

"It looks the exact same. What are you even getting from this house?"

"None a your business."

"I thought you wanted to distract me."

"I can't risk givin you too much information because you're scared a my murderous brother."

"Information seems less dangerous than your murderous brother."

"The information can't protect you. Distract yourself with somethin else."

You groaned, tipping your head back. "Like what?"

"I dunno, I can't think of everythin."

"You haven't thought of anything."

"My job is to break into this house an not let myself or any a these men die, not manage your social issues."

"This isn't a social issue! Your brother is a killer." 

"That's not sayin a lot given everyone else workin with us." 

"God, I miss working at Staples. No one there had blood on their hands."

"That you know of."

"You're making this worse."

And so it went for another twenty minutes. Believe it or not, Cronus did not come barreling in the door to end your sweet, sedentary life, and you had honestly forgotten about the weight of that on your mind. Bickering with Eridan was a refreshing sense of normalcy. He was an idiot, and it was nice to chat with an idiot instead of a mobster.

You could see the black cars cruising in barely at the edge of the entryway camera. "Okay, listen closely," you began. "There should be a security box somewhere close to the entryway once you get inside. I need you to get to it as quickly as you can, cause I can't deactivate anything until you do. But be careful, there's a couple guards right in there."

"But the alarm's gonna go off once we get in."

"Yeah, it will, but if you get to it immediately, I can stop the system from actually alerting anyone. Just go quickly, okay? There's not a huge window to cut it off."

"Okay."

You heard him mumbling something else to the men in the car, then in a moment, they all started to unload from the cars. The image of a clown car did come to your mind, but once they were all out, they moved with such a planned, practiced finesse that it ruined the goofy clown car thought. Though, in both cases, you were terrified. Clowns because they were clowns, and Eridan's bunch because they looked like a horrifying, trained band of assassins. You knew you were supposed to be looking away probably at this point, but your curiosity was killing you. You leaned in close to the screens. It was easy to identify Eridan, even through a security camera. He was at the center of the pack, flanked by two of the men with the bigger guns, compared to the rest of them. 

You knew, based off his vague warning, the guns, and the premise of this whole situation, that people were going to get hurt. That was an obvious conclusion, but you were still taken by surprise when you watched one of the guards drop suddenly, then the other. You could see something black pooling on the pavement. That made your stomach turn. Ohh, that made your stomach turn. You did not feel good watching that. Not at all. You were gonna throw up.

"Sol, I'm in, I'm at the box. What now?"

Later. You were gonna throw up later. "Okay, open the panel. There should be a USB insert. All you have to do is stick in the flash drive, and the program will do the rest."

"It's in."

You keyed around for a few seconds to get everything connected, but unsurprisingly, your program worked like a charm. You had to admit, you were damn good at your job. That much was a relief. "Okay. Alarm's disabled."

"The cameras?" 

"On, but no longer feeding or recording to a live source. I'm the only one who can see them."

"That's perfect. How long do we have?" You watched Eridan linger there by the door, turning in a slow circle until he found the camera. He waved. 

"I can hold it as long as you need me too, but they might get suspicious pretty soon."

"Heard. We'll be quick." He gestured for the men to follow him in, and they dispersed. They must've planned this fairly thoroughly, because they moved with utter confidence. It was smooth and fluid. They split into groups of two, except Eridan, who was flanked by two men himself. You enlarged whichever screen Eridan was moving through, tracking him through the house. 

He stopped in a room that looked like an office, the two men remaining at the door, holstered his gun, and stepped in a slow circle. He jumped. He stomped. He kicked the wooden panels of the desk. Finally, he got on his knees. You zoomed in and watched him pry at the floorboards with his fingernails. After some effort, one of the boards popped open. He used the hollow to grip the neighboring board, splitting that one from the foundation as well. He continued until there was a good size hole in the floor. _Huh._ The black and white camera quality made it difficult for you to identify what was beneath the floor, but soon enough, Eridan reached his arms in. For a moment, you wondered if this was a horror movie, and if he was about to get sucked in by an evil demon. 

But, that was unlikely. The likelier plot of this movie was crime, drugs, and complicated relationships. I mean, just read the tags if you're confused. 

Eridan started withdrawing parcels that you, still, couldn't identify. He kept lifting them out until he had a sizable stack, then he beckoned the two men to load them into a bag. After that, they retreated, leaving a wake of bodies and a ripped up floor. 

"Still there?" Eridan chimed in his ear again as they climbed out of frame and into the cars. 

"Still here," you sighed.

"We're out. You can finish up your tech magic."

"Did you get the flash drive back?" you prompted, knowing he didn't. You could see exactly what he did.

"Shit. Did you need it?"

"I just- it has my fingerprints on it. It'd be ideal if you could get it out of the crime scene, please."

"They won't call the cops."

"Would you mind just grabbing it before you head out?"

He huffed, but you heard him back an order to stop the car. His little silhouette ran back into the frame, grabbed the flash drive from the security panel, flipped off the camera, and sprinted back to the car. "Okay, fine. I have it."

"You're a doll, Ed," you grinned. "I'll cover your ass here and close everything down."

"Great. This went smoothly, I'll admit. You did a good job."

"Thanks. Please never hire me again."

He chuckled. "Fair enough." 

You hung up after that. Their crew trickled in after the half hour drive, and you were more than ready for the smoke you were promised. During the time after you hung up with Eridan and before he arrived, you were stuck in silence with Cronus Sr. "Dualscar" Ampora, and it was Miserable. You pretended you were incredibly busy with computer stuff, when in reality, it was a piece of cake to close everything down. You opened a Google window and typed random words in for twenty minutes, a practice you did often at work when you didn't feel like genuinely working. Tak tak tak tak. You actually ended up typing _tak tak tak_ in the search bar. 

Finally, the troops returned. There were fewer, and the bag of whatever Eridan stole from the floor was nowhere to be seen. Eridan himself, however, was present ~~and gorgeous.~~ His tie was loosened, his vest again unbuttoned. You turned the monitors off, glancing at him. He clicked over in his fancy shoes, his hand smoothing over your shoulder as he leaned in. "So we're all good here?"

"We're all good here," you parroted. 

He dropped the flash drive into your hand. "Still up for that smoke?" 

"I'd die for it at this point." 

"That'd kinda ruin it."

"I'd kill for it?" you offered.

He considered it for a moment, humming. "Who?"

"Ed, if I have to stay in this room a minute longer than I have to, it's gonna be you." 

He snorted and patted your shoulder as he stood up. "I just gotta talk to my dad for a minute. If you want, you can head upstairs?" 

"And risk running into Cronus alone?" You scoffed. "I'll wait here. Maybe take a drink, if that's still on the table."

"What's your poison?" 

"Uh- sweetest mix you have. Cherry Coke?" 

"What about for the alcohol, Sol?" he laughed.

"Oh. Jack's fine." 

"Jack and cherry Coke?" 

"Yup." 

He kept chuckling, but he nodded. He turned to the bar on the opposite side of the room, manned by a man in one of the identical black and white suits. Eridan passed on the order and stuck a thumb toward you, and soon enough, a glass of Jack and cherry Coke was delivered. 

Eridan got his own glass of whiskey. He lifted it toward you from across the room in a silent cheers, then he went to sit with Dualscar, who hadn't moved an inch. You sipped your drink and waited some more. It seemed like that was your job tonight: waiting on Eridan. Was that what being in the mafia meant? Because it also seemed to be what everyone else around you was doing. 

You finished your drink in the meantime, and the man behind the bar was kind enough to send you another one. You sucked that one down, too, but turned down a third. If you kept up the pace you were going, Eridan would have to carry you upstairs. And you still had to drive yourself home. 

Eridan took his sweet time talking to his father, in low voices so you couldn't overhear. That was rude. You busied yourself with some idle games on your phone until you felt his hand on your shoulder again. His eyes seemed heavy, his voice lazy. 

"Come on, I gotta get these shoes off."

"You're telling me," you groaned. You slung your backpack over your shoulder. 

He walked you back out into the hallway where you got choked out (memories) and back into the elevator, and then back into his apartment. Caesar was delighted to have both of you back into the apartment, chirping and dodging between your legs. You smiled as you carefully stepped over him. "He's a real charmer, this one."

"He's a kiss ass." Eridan stripped his coat, throwing it over a stool. The tie followed. Over his vest was a leather harness, with two loaded holsters under his arms. That came off, too. He rested the handguns on his kitchen counter. It was curiously domestic, and put way too many images in your head.

You dropped your gaze to your bag, digging through to find your pack and lighter. "You're a kiss ass."

" _You're_ a kiss ass."

You found what you were looking for, setting both items on the counter a little ways away from the literal guns. You shucked your own coat, more than eager to get out of those horrific shoes. "These shoes are terrible," you added.

Eridan took his own off, and... shrunk. Several inches. For a moment, you thought you were simply too tired to properly process, but as he walked past you, it was confirmed. You were back to being taller than him. 

"Ed," you mused, hitting the pack against your hand. "How tall are you?" 

"6'3."

"Is that with or without the lifts?"

He looked up from brewing coffee. "Excuse me?"

Your grin widened. "Is that with or without the lifts?"

He flipped you off.

"I can't believe you, how tall are you actually?" you prodded, already giggling. 

"Fuck off." 

"How tall are the lifts, Ampora?" 

"They're 3 inches," he sighed. "And the shoe heel is about that, too." 

You did some quick math. "You're not even 6 feet tall?" 

Again, he stuck his middle finger up to you. Taking his mug, he went to sit out on the balcony. You chased him, taking your smokes. 

"You really wear 6 inch heels?"

"I'm just embellishin, no different than wearin a tie an a nice coat," he huffed. The balcony, like the rest of the apartment, was grand. It overlooked the city from the penthouse, which was a view you, quite frankly, never thought you'd see. You relaxed against the railing to look it over, but of course, you continued to pester Eridan. This was just hilarious to you. 

"Half a foot isn't embellishment. That's deception."

He shrugged. He set his mug down to shake his own pack of cigarettes that was waiting for him in the patio chair.

"I really thought you were taller than me."

"That was the goal, idiot." 

You lit up as well. "You're such a douchebag." 

"Maybe so." 

"Definitely so."

"I saved your life tonight."

"Yeah, you're also the one who put it in jeopardy. It cancels out."

There was the sudden crack of a gunshot. You wheeled around the balcony to identify the source, because it didn't come from street level, but Eridan remained nonchalant. He took a drag and said, simply, "Speak of the devil."

"What the fuck was that?" _Speak of the devil_ was not an appropriate explanation. 

"Cronus, I'm sure."

"What?!" You leaned over the railing to see where Cronus might've been, and you realized how fucking stupid of an idea that was. You pulled back into the apparent safety of the balcony. "What the fuck is he shooting? Where is he?"

"Relax, will you? He's probably on his own balcony shootin pigeons." 

"You can't- you can't _shoot pigeons_ in New York, Ed, the bullets fall- or what if he misses in the first place? He can't-"

"Sol, he doesn't care about any a that. He's just upset."

"He should get a fucking stress ball if he's _upset_."

"Mm, maybe." 

"What do you mean, maybe? Why are you so okay with this?" 

"Because there's jack shit I can do to stop it, so why should I waste my time?"

"You're enabling him to keep this bullshit up if he can just keep getting away with it!"

Eridan seemed disinterested, at best. He looked at you flatly, then looked away as he took another drag. "It's really not my problem."

"He's your fucking brother! How is it not your problem?" you pointed out, gesturing with your cigarette. 

"Because he won't listen to me, and neither will my dad. You seem to think I have some kinda power in this situation, an I'm really not sure where you got that idea from. I'm not in charge a fuckin dust around here, I don't know what you want me to say."

"You're the Don's son-"

"Life ain't the Godfather, Sol. Please don't pretend like you know heads or goddamn tails about this." 

You turned towards the city again. It really was so beautiful and alive from up here; your apartment was on the second floor, which meant your view was the parking lot and the grimy, narrow streets that led to it. You got to see raccoons fighting for trash, birds fighting over something dead, and crackheads fighting for a hit. That was your New York. Eridan's New York was skyscrapers, glimmering lights against a night sky, and gunshots from the neighboring penthouse. You really couldn't make heads or tails of it. This wasn't even your city, how could you assume it followed your code? This was a parallel universe, and you had only dipped your toe in the water.

You sat down in the patio chair next to him. "Why'd you bring me here?" you asked, voice quiet.

"To do a job," he answered. 

"I'm off the clock now. Why didn't you tell me to go home and keep my mouth shut? You didn't have to let me in your apartment at all, but you did. Twice now."

You watched him bring the cigarette up to his lips. He closed his eyes as he breathed it in, then exhaled. You started to say something else, nudge him to respond, but he held a finger up. And, weirdly enough, that worked. You stayed quiet. 

"I feel like," he said slowly after a moment. "You're one a the only people who knows me anymore." 

You paused. That wasn't the answer you expected, and you didn't have a comeback to it. You continued to stare at his face, almost soft, but he kept his eyes on the city. 

"You think that sounds stupid, and maybe it does, but it's- I don't know. That's my only answer."

"What about your family? You practically still live with Cronus," you suggested, waiting for some elaboration.

Instead, Eridan just waved. "Cro knows me about as well as he knows female anatomy. I can't stand that fuckin hothead." 

"But you still work with him?" 

"I told you, it's more complicated than you think it is."

"Why don't you quit?" 

That, actually, made him laugh, but it wasn't humorous. "That's a good one. I'll tell my dad that one. Why don't I just quit." 

"Okay, listen, you know I don't know how this works."

"So stop tryin to. I didn't bring you here so you could fix all my problems, I'll tell you that much."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Stop analyzin," he deadpanned. "Stop solvin me. You know why we had such an intense relationship in high school?"

"Because you're an asshole?"

"And so are you. And we didn't pretend to be what we weren't. We didn't waste time coddlin each other's feelings. We didn't sugarcoat. You called me a whore an you know what? I still sucked you off that same fuckin night."

"Slut," you corrected. " _You_ called yourself a whore."

"Point stands. It was the last time I felt like a real fuckin person, Sol. It was the last time I felt like myself. Bickerin with you almost makes me feel that again. Everythin nowadays for me is career, it's planned, it's overseen- I can't do shit like we did in high school anymore." 

"Who says?" you prompted. 

"Ain't it obvious? My dad, my-"

It seemed like, at least for the two of you, that kissing was most organic when it cut one of you off. In this scenario, it was you cutting him off. He wanted something spontaneous, something that felt like high school? You could do that. You'd been wanting to kiss him all night, anyway. It was a win-win.

You pushed his hand with the cigarette away from his face, leaning out of your chair to kiss his lips. Just like that night he talked about, a million years ago, you felt him halt, and you could imagine his eyes widening. But, just like that night, he kissed you back. 

And just like that night, the most complicated repercussions of it were still yet to come.

You changed into your bummier clothing and gave him the suit back, and he walked you out pretty soon after that. You weren't in high school anymore. A kiss was fun, it relieved some stress, it made you feel nostalgic, but it wasn't going to lead to anything. It couldn't lead to anything. You were going to stick to your shame jerking off, and he could stick to- whatever the fuck he did. You wouldn't know. You drove home that night alone, got drunk off cheap vodka in your apartment alone, and had one of those aforementioned shame jerking off sessions alone. That was how things were meant to be. You weren't the key to solving Eridan's problems, even if you were able to alleviate some stress. You were just another cigarette for him in that way; a quick smoke to clear his head that would, undoubtedly, lead to something horrible in the end. Because that's the thing about cigarettes, isn't it? A moment of relief paid for with a lifetime of misery.

Surprisingly, your night of crime did not lead to immediate legal action. Every time you heard sirens for the next few days, it made you break out in goosebumps, but they were never for you. Your phone rang and it wasn't an investigator. Someone knocked at your door and it wasn't a uniform. You started to relax again. This was a blip on your timeline. A memory you'd wait ten years to tell Aradia, then laugh about it. You could move on. 

One of the knocks on your door, however, did turn out to be a reminder of the night, though thankfully not with a badge. It was Eridan, which obviously did not even surprise you. You just sighed, leaning against the door frame in your sweatpants. "Remember what I said about calling before you show up?"

"No," he said simply. He held out an envelope. 

You took it, flipping it over in your hand. It was blank. "What's this?" 

"Payment." 

You ripped the top open, and, "Holy shit-"

"Should all be there. Didn't wanna leave it in your box." 

"Yeah, no fucking shit. This is more money than I've ever seen in my life," you mused, thumbing through the bills. Who cared if it wasn't even everything, this was more than enough to keep you steady for months. "How do you get the bills this crisp?"

He snorted. "We dry clean them."

"Really?" 

"No, you fuckin idiot."

"I don't know how you rich people live," you argued. "Whatever. Thanks for this."

"Thanks for helpin me out. You earned it."

Yeah, you sure as fuck did. You nodded. "Just never hire me again, deal?"

"Deal," he agreed. He tucked his hands in his pockets, starting back down the stairs.

"Wait, Ed."

He raised his eyebrows, turning halfway over his shoulder. 

"You remember Aradia? Aradia Megido? She went to high school with us."

He considered it for a moment. "Your girlfriend?"

"Well- we're not dating anymore- it doesn't matter. Yeah, she was my girlfriend."

"Yeah, I remember her."

"She's a reporter now. Do you think you could sit down for an interview with her?" 

Curiously, he smiled. "Really?"

"Yeah. She wants to do an article on the whole Ampora hotel business."

"Uh- sure. Yeah, I'll do it. Give her my number."

"Are you serious?"

"Fuck it, why not?"

You grinned, too. "Dude, she's gonna love me."

"Glad I could help."

With that, he descended the rest of the stairs. His fancy black car stood out like a sore thumb in the lot, as did he as he walked toward it. You watched him go, then dialed up Aradia. She wasn't gonna fucking believe any part of this, but she was gonna fucking owe you a huge one. An interview with an Ampora heir? Yeah. She could buy you drinks next time for that.


End file.
